Pedal to the Metal: AcceleRacers the Musical
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: Sequel to Sweet Melissa. Our heroes' work is done for now, and they have definitely earned a vacation. What romance drama and whacky adventures will ensue? COMPLETE.
1. Engine Overture

A/N: How long have you been waiting for this? Not very long. Hell, some of you probably just want me to shut up. But here I am! And, here it is! If it's underlined, in **bold** or _italics_, then someone is probably singing. Oh, and you better pay attention to the next part, cuz I'm only gonna say this _once_:

**DISCLAIMER:**** If I owned the rights to AcceleRacers, or worked for Mattel, Hot Wheels, or Mainframe Entertainment in any way, shape or form, do you **_**really**_** think I'd be posting **_**here?**_** Where I can't **_**charge**_** you for reading this?! We square? Good.**

SOUNDTRACK: This song was originally written by Gary Numan, but I used the cover that Fear Factory did; I just liked it better. Links for the videos for the soundtrack will be posted on my profile shortly.

* * *

The sounds of a high powered drill and a welding torch echoed through the garage, ringing in Shirako's ears as he added the finishing touches to the former Honda Civic. It had been about two weeks since their misadventures in the Realms had come to an end, and they had lost their cars rescuing Tork. 

The fun hadn't stopped there, though; as it turned out, Vert's father, Major Jack Wheeler, had been the head driver for a government funded rival team called the Silencerz. The Silencerz wanted to use the Acceleron's technology to take over the world before they moved on to the Acceleron's planet to rob it of its resources, but their rebellion against SHIELD was quashed, and the Teku and Metal Maniacs had come back to Tezla's mansion to recover. His plans for the Realms were put on hold, but he paid for cars and parts all the same. It was only fair after what they'd been through, and, besides, SHIELD had paid him for the Acceledrome, so it wasn't like the good doctor was short on cash.

Shirako had chosen a Honda Civic, and Teku-ized it in record time; the Japanese boy had first ripped out the trunk and backseat to make room for the monster speakers he installed, making it a close cousin to his beloved Bassline. After that, he compensated for the new weight distribution, went to work under the hood, and finally painted the whole thing sapphire blue with silver tribal markings.

It only took a few days, and today he happily sighed, polishing the tinted windshield. "My baby," he cooed, telling the car how beautiful she was in Japanese. He smiled widely, opening the driver's side door and getting comfy in his seat. He just wanted to test the speakers, though; she wasn't ready to see the world just yet.

Shirako's fingers gently caressed the touchscreen of the laptop he'd installed in the dash, and he uploaded the contents of his iPod, pumping the bass as high as it would go for his baby's first song. "Yo, let's hear some Phat Beatz," he said with a grin, and chose his favorite song. The bass was so high, that even the soft, high pitched opening synth lines and guitar shook the garage. He leaned back in his seat, immersing himself in the music and singing along.

**Here in my car  
I feel safest of all  
I can lock all my doors  
Its the only way to live  
In cars  
**

He did just as he said, locking his doors, and from there, it was as if Shirako was in his own little world. He stroked the dashboard and rested his head on the steering wheel as if it was his lover's shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel like Kurt would be jealous.

On the other side of the garage, Porkchop covered his ears and shouted for him to scrap that noise, but to Shirako it was only pantomime. All that mattered to the Teku mechanic was Phat Beatz. The doors were locked, the windows were up, and Shirako was sealed off from the rest of the world; it was just him and his baby.

**Here in my car  
I can only receive  
I can listen to you  
It keeps me stable for days  
In cars  
**

He bobbed his head to the music, dancing a little in his seat; God, how he loved that new car smell. It was almost…intoxicating. The youngest of the Teku let his imagination take hold of him as he hit the option on the touchscreen to sync up lights with the music, running his hand gently, no, LOVINGLY, over the steering wheel. He pretended he was back in the Realms, evading the Drones.

**Here in my car  
Where the image breaks down  
Will you visit me please?  
If I open my door  
In cars  
**

There might as well have been no one there to yell at him for the loud music; he couldn't hear them. He was back on the track in the Cosmic Realm, crushing an RD-S1 that dared to touch his speakers.

**Here in my car  
I know Ive started to think  
About leaving tonight  
Although nothing seems right  
In cars  
**

Shirako's singing lowered to a hum as the song faded out, and he sighed, relaxing in the comfy driver's seat of Phat Beatz. After a little while, he finally got out as his stomach beckoned him towards the kitchen, but Porkchop was still outside, and still upset at having to listen to that lousy house industrial. But he had a plan.

"Two can play at this game," he muttered, and cranked the volume on Wrathchild's sound system. The garage erupted in high pitched, fast paced, screechy Southern Californian voices and guitars, the drumming so energetic you could barely distinguish the beat. Shirako nearly doubled over from surprise and covered his ears.

"Ah! This music is so angry!" he cried, and broke into a run. Porkchop laughed, and turned off the music, the sounds of 'Raining Blood' by Slayer finally coming to an end.

Kurt and Vert, who had watched the whole thing, had a good laugh over it, and Kurt went back to what was on his mind. "So, you were saying?"

Vert blinked. "Saying what now?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "How the heck did a suburbanite surfer like you ever learn Russian?"

"Ohhh, yeah" he said, smiling. "It's a long story, Kurt; I have to start at the beginning."

"We're not leaving until later, man. It's no big deal."

"So, my Dad's in the Army, right? Well, he got stationed at a base in West Germany. That was the free side during the Cold War. And there was this bar where all the officers would go on the weekends. The young woman who waited tables there, Svetlana, had come to Germany with her parents a year before to escape the oppressive communist regime in the USSR and worked at the bar to help support her family. Svetlana was very pretty, and Dad really liked her."

Kurt nodded, listening intently as they walked, following leisurely behind Shirako and Porkchop through the huge mansion to the kitchen. He was very interested in the story, though he wasn't sure why.

"So, they were dating, and they fell in love and stuff, and they got married in the chapel on the base. Dad brought Svetlana to America, and they got a house, and they had me, and Svetlana became my Mom!"

"Ohhhh" Kurt said, nodding. "So you learned Russian at the same time as English."

"Just as Nolo speaks both English and Spanish, comrade" the blonde said in a perfect Novgorod accent, and they laughed.

* * *

As strange as many thought it was, Monkey and Nolo were actually the best cooks of the whole group and had collaborated on every meal for the AccelaRacers since they arrived at Tezla's house. Today was no exception. Both the Teku and the Metal Maniacs were hurriedly eating up everything in sight; bacon, sausage, eggs, cinnamon rolls, coffee, and orange juice. 

On one side of the room, Lani was trying to teach Mel to hula, while Karma and Taro discussed their excitement over the coming trip. Each and every last one of them was glad to be free from the Realms with a chance to relax and cut loose; almost as soon as they had arrived at stately Tezla Manor in Beverly Hills, the drivers had gotten new cars on Tezla's dime in gratitude of all their hard work and vigilance in the Realms. They had worked hard and fast to customize their new wheels, all save for Vert. After everything that had happened with the Drones, the Silencerz and his father, he only made some basic modifications. He said he needed a break from racing, so the others left him alone.

As he flipped the last pancake, Nolo complained loudly about his landlady. "Man, I can't believe she only rented out the place after a week. I was still paid up and everything and she just shoves my stuff in the attic and gives my apartment to someone else. What a total bitch!"

"The guy who owns my building did the same damn thing!" Monkey said, passing fresh cups of coffee to Porkchop and Shirako; the two glared at each other momentarily before heading to opposite sides of the room. "I was lucky to even get half my stuff, man; I had to call the cops to even get him to give it back. Big jerk went and took my CDs to a pawn shop…"

Karma nodded in agreement. "It was really sweet of Tezla to let us stay here."

"Yeah, what a nice guy," said Vert. The estate was huge, but he knew how annoying all of them could be when together. "Not to mention, agreeing to—"

Speak of the Devil; Dr. Tezla himself, who had chosen to sleep in, wandered in drowsily and yawning almost cutely. Just two days before he'd freed himself of the clumsy bio-suit now that his injuries had fully healed, and he had a surprising spring in his step for someone his age. He stretched, the morning sunlight from the large bay window reflecting from his purple silk pajamas.

Vert snickered, and then laughed. "Nice pjs, Doc. Did you borrow them from Hugh Hefner?"

"Oh, cute, Vert. Real cute." He graciously accepted the hot fresh cup of coffee Monkey passed him and sat down at the table with a smile. "Today's the big day, my AcceleRacers. This is going to be great!"

Indeed, they were all packed and ready. To save some time, and because Mel only had her permit and not her license, some of them were driving together, but it was only a six hour trip, and for them, would go by like nothing. Mel was riding with Wylde in a 76 Dodge Charger the two tricked out together and named Demonizer; Lani was riding with Monkey in Hell Razor; and if they felt like they needed a rest, any of the other drivers were free to hitch up to Porkchop's new rig, Holy Smoke, and sleep it off. (He had named the rig in loving memory of Old Smokey; who knew the big lug could be so sentimental?)

In any case, they were ready and waiting, and badly in need of the vacation they were embarking on.

* * *

A/N: I wonder if you saw it coming? I left clues in the end of Sweet Melissa; Not just what was said, but what they were playing...that last bit's the key to where they're going. I wonder... 


	2. Viva Las Vegas:Pedal to the Metal

A/N: This one follows the "Song A, Song B, Reprise of Song A" format. You'll see what I mean. I'm still having a little trouble picking the next song; I thought I had it set, but it doesn't seem right, so I'm gonna fool around until I get it right. I just want to apologize in advance for any inconvenience. Thank you.

Soundtrack: "Viva Las Vegas" by Elvis Presley; "Pedal to the Metal" by Kazzer.

* * *

"I still don't see why Sparky can't come," Monkey sulked, and Tezla waved at him dismissively. 

"He's too conspicuous; people would want to know how you got him. Anyway, you shouldn't worry about it. Sparky will be perfectly safe here."

"But what if he gets lonely while we're gone?"

"Monkey, it's a robot. It can't get lonely."

"He."

"What?"

"He's not an 'it,' he's a _he."_

The little ex-drone in question was in sleep mode in Tezla's lab, deep beneath the mansion, and Monkey didn't have any reason to worry. But _was_ still worried, and Dr. Tezla rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. Pathetic.

Mel grinned from across the room; she'd hardly ever been outside of the states of New Jersey or Arizona, and mostly only to small towns. She was really looking forward to seeing the sights.

Catching her grin, Wylde smiled too. Whenever he was around her, her cheerful moods seemed to infect him. "This is gonna be so much fun," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder, and she giggled.

"I know!" Tezla said. He hadn't been paying much attention and thought the statement wasn't directed towards anyone in particular. "I haven't been to Sin City in ages!"

"Is it really as great as they say?" Karma questioned boredly, and Tezla eyed her strangely.

"You're joking, right?" he scoffed. "Karma, my dear, we are about to embark upon a grand adventure like none you have ever had! People come from around the globe—and, it's rumored, other planets—for the nonstop parties, lenient law enforcement, drinking, gambling, and beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the beautiful girls. And the best part is the cardinal rule! What happens there—"

"STAYS THERE!!" they cheered, finishing his sentence, and Tezla grinned.

"That's right, boys and girls, and if you see it once you'll never be the same again!" Suddenly, Tezla had a strangely nostalgic gleam in his eye, and began to sing. It was amazing, really, especially if you considered how old he was and how little personality he usually possessed.

**Bright light city gonna set my soul  
Gonna set my soul on fire  
Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,  
So get those stakes up higher  
There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there  
And they're all livin' devil may care  
And I'm just the devil with love to spare  
Viva Las Vegas, viva Las Vegas**

A few of the drivers laughed; this was the first time they saw him in any mood besides serious. He really seemed to be enjoying himself, though, so they let him be, and Porkchop and Nolo even sang backup.

**How I wish that there were more  
Than the twenty-four hours in the day  
'Cause even if there were forty more  
I wouldn't sleep a minute away  
Oh, there's black jack and poker and the roulette wheel  
A fortune won and lost on every deal  
All you need's a strong heart and a nerve of steel  
Viva Las Vegas, viva Las Vegas**

Porkchop and Nolo sang right along with him, fists in the air, ready and waiting for the vacation they all so terribly deserved. They cheered Tezla on, too, when he jumped up on the table and reminisced about the times he had spent in the city of lights.

**Viva Las Vegas with your neon flashin'  
And your one-armed bandits crashin'  
All those hopes down the drain  
Viva Las Vegas turnin' day into nighttime  
Turnin' night into daytime  
If you see it once  
You'll never be the same again**

**I'm gonna keep on the run  
I'm gonna have me some fun  
If it costs me my very last dime  
If I wind up broke up well  
I'll always remember that I had a swingin' time  
I'm gonna give it everything I've got  
Lady luck please let the dice stay hot  
Let me shoot a seven with every shot  
Viva Las Vegas, viva Las Vegas,  
Viva, viva Las Vegas!!**

Laughing and smiling, Nolo extended a helping hand to the doctor as he stepped down, taking a bow at the end of his performance. The drivers applauded. If they hadn't been psyched up before, they sure were now, and Nolo knew it. It was time.

"So what're we sitting around here for, homes? We could be on the road, on our way!"

"Good point, Nolo," Tezla agreed, nodding.

"Well, what are we waiting for, man?" he said. "Your house is nice and everything, but I wanna get out of here. Let's motor! Andele!"

And, as if to prove his point, he sang too. Well, okay, it was more of a rap, but he still had a nice voice.

**I'm like a 454  
With the four on the floor  
Deuce coupe comin' at ya  
Avoiding the capture  
Far from stock I'm chopped  
And ready to rock  
In a city of steel  
Catch me cruisin' down the block  
But nowadays is difficult  
I'm out on my own  
Drive a 96 Jetta  
Hopin' that I could do better  
But my car keeps me humble  
In the concrete jungle  
Despite the wear and tear  
It seems to always get me there **

Nolo bobbed his head to the beat pounding out from Shirako's headphones, an easy-going dance mix fromn yet another underground band. But it was a good one, and he kept going. The rest of the drivers gave him some room and followed him as he continued.

**Rebuilt the motor 'cause she  
Decided to blow  
And what do you know  
Someone stole my stereo  
When it's time to go  
I put my foot on the floor  
Let the diesel do the work  
I ain't complaining no more  
Highways and straight-aways  
Off roads and open roads  
No matter where I go  
I'll still be makin' the show  
And it's kinda like life  
And life treats you good  
It's not what on the outside  
It's what's under the hood**

"Hell yeah!" Kurt agreed, but Nolo continued.

**Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off, ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor  
Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off, ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor**

Nolo had a habit of walking while he sang, and most of his friends and former enemies followed his like the pied piper to the garage, where their cars were waiting; finely tuned machines with fully packed trunks. The drive from the City of Angels to the City of Sin was a six hour drive for most, but they knew it wouldn't take them nearly as long. Alternative routes were plotted in advance to avoid police and state troopers. They wouldn't be hitting the Nitrox on this one, but they sure weren't going to obey the speed limit.(Then again, that was a given, especially with their type!)

Shirako, who was himself quite eager to get back behind the wheel and joined Nolo in his little racer's cabaret.

Though he agreed with what was being said, Tork could only snicker at them. It was just too weird to see them rapping; he was the only black person they hung out with, and _he_ didn't even like that music. _If_ it could be called music at all. They were from the ghetto, so it couldn't be helped, but it was still annoying. Annoying, but also very funny.

**It doesn't matter what you drive**

_**It's that you drive what you got**_

**Discipline you could win  
Just let the tires spin and begin  
The journey of life with each stride**

_**Meet me on the other side  
Let me know when you arrive**_

Sometimes we collide

_**Be sure that you're insured**_

Got the back up plan

_**Alternative program**_

**Who I am doesn't reflect material wealth  
My vehicle approaches stealth **

The two Teku high-fived, but Tork shook his head; now, this was just getting silly. He fished for his keys, got into his perfect 1970 Dodge Challenger with a 440 engine and white paint job just like the one in his favorite racing movie, Vanishing Point, and decided to ignore them.

By now, Shirako had ducked out of their little duet, and Nolo was performing solo again. Still, the Japanese Teku danced, annoying Porkchop, but he refused to let it spoil his mood as he rechecked Holy Smoke's cab to make sure he had enough snacks for the ride. Dr. Tezla finally reappeared, dressed in a tasteful blue suit with a white shirt and no tie, and tossed one last bag into Nitrium's back seat.**  
**

**All the fools want to show off  
And shoot off their mouths  
I'm comin' with the wickedness so I can take them out with my style  
style style style style when I bust the true school watch this hip hop**

**Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off, ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor  
Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off, ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor**

Nolo stopped rapping and sang soulfully now as all the rest made last minute adjustments and made sure they had everything they needed.

**Won't stop drivin' till it's over  
Still be crusin' when the sun goes down  
Won't stop drivin' till it's over  
Still be crusin' when the sun goes down**

He went back to rapping again.

**Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor  
Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off ain't never getting lost  
Which way will I turn when roads cross  
Put the pedal to the metal a little more and it's scary  
But one thing's for sure keep my foot on the floor**

Nolo climbed into Revolucion, a car he had named for the famous night club district in Tiajuana; she was a sturdy 1996 Volkswagen Jetta, deep orange with an elaborate blue angel on the hood. Why he had chosen something like that was beyond the rest, but they didn't pry.

**Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off  
Put the pedal to the medal and I'm off  
Pedal to the medal and I'm off**

**With a '62 bird and I'm out like that and I'm out  
With a '62 bird and I'm out like that and I'm out**

Nolo turned his key and Revolucion roared to life, the eerie blue lights showing under her. It was impossible to hear in the garage as all present turned their ignitions (save for Lani and Mel, who were passengers) and thundered down the driveway to the gates. The gates shut and locked automatically behind the last car, Karma's chop shop monster Digi Precision.

Six hours for most was hardly four for their motley crew, and they went by like nothing at all. After all, time flies when you're having fun. Driving had always been enjoyable for all of them, but being together made it even better. And that was to say nothing of the thought of their destination.

A huge lighted sign, only partially in neon and shaped like a diamond, welcomed them to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. Mel's eyes brightened and she laughed, pointing towards the Vegas skyline as they pulled up the strip, and the shadow of the imitation Eiffel Tower and a glowing replica of a hot air balloon loomed over them. A giant neon Cowboy tipped his hat to them, and in the distance, they could see what appeared to be a sphinx. They had arrived.

Quietly, mostly to themselves, a few of them sang just a little. They had gambling on their minds, and, really, it was more prayer than song.

Tezla started in his car, but they heard him over the comm. link and agreed.

**I'm gonna give it everything I've got  
Lady Luck, please let the dice stay hot  
Let me shout a seven with every shot**

Vert was the first to join in the last of the song, and most of the other's soon followed.

**Viva Las Vegas, viva Las Vegas  
Viva, viva Las Vegas!!**

Holy Smoke led the convoy into the parking lot of Circus Circus, the only hotel and casino on the Strip that had an RV park, and, therefore, the only one that would let Holy Smoke stay there. With minimal fuss and happy chatter, they pulled their luggage from their trunks and entered the lobby.

* * *

A/N: Destination revealed! Hooray! Sin City, baby, YEAH! So, they're in Vegas, and I'm sure they'll find something to do. But you'll just have to wait and see what happens. TEEHEEHEE! Girly laugh. That was fun. Okay, so the next chapter introduces some original characters I made up for this one, and I hope you'll like them. They've got their own gang, but they do have personal connections to the Maniacs. Once again, you'll just have to wait and see. 


	3. Living Fast

A/N: OMG! I had the best vacation ever! Afternoon of our second day on the road, we hit Memphis and spent four hours in Graceland!! GRACELAND!! Then after we got to Albequerque, my cousin Steven's 20th brithday party was Saturday night, and then on Sunday Steven took me to the shooting range where I fired a gun for the first time. There were various other parties, dinners, and feasts, small children running everywhere, and I met all these relatives whose names I can't remember for the most part. My Mom has five brothers and sisters who have kids, and some of them have kids, and don't even get me started on second, third and fourth cousins, not to mention great aunts and uncles. We stayed with my Gramma and Grampa. Towards the end of our vacation, we took a mini road trip around New Mexico; we went to the International UFO Museum and Research Center in Roswell, to Carlsbad Caverns, and to White Sands National Park. Then we said our goodbyes and drove three days until we were home.

SOUNDTRACK: "Life in the Fast Lane" by The Eagles; "Wild Thing" by The Troggs.

* * *

Nona checked the tone of her bass guitar, smiled, and leaned casually against the wall. "I got a good feeling about tonight, boys," she said. Her short dreadlocks shifted their weight, falling against her smooth chocolate face, and tickling her forehead. 

"Last time you had a good feeling about a certain night," her drummer started, taking off his shirt. He never performed with a shirt on; he played too hot for that. He opened his mouth to finish, but closed it, scratching his head. He turned to the guitarist. "Hey Jimmy, what happened last time Nona had one of those good feelings? I can't remember."

"Of course you can't, Angie," he said, hanging up his aviator jacket to reveal a striped tee shirt. "You forgot to take your medication and thought you were Prince Charles."

"I thought it was Charles Manson that time," Nona joked.

Angie grabbed his drumsticks. "Whatever. Let's just get onstage."

It was a pretty good crowd for a Friday, the regular crowd rushing in, their hair showing in every crayola shade; Dino's Bar & Grille had been a safe haven for the members of society's fringes since it's founding in 1956 when it was frequented by Beatniks. Indeed, the original owner and Manager, Dean Cornelius Bootzin I, called Dino, was a Beatnik, complete with turtle neck sweater and black beret.

Now, Dino's was mostly a hangout for Punks, but there were also a great many number of Goths, as well as Art and Film Geeks from local colleges and even the occasional hippie. It seemed like almost every disillusioned and alienated kid with a weird or wild streak ended up down at Dino's. The food was lousy, but the drinks were cheap, and the Foundlings made sure the music was always hot.

"Good evening, Dino's Bar & Grille! I see that you're all dressed to kill!" The kids on the floor thrashed and cheered for her; Nona played bass and sang the lead vocals for the Foundlings. They were a simple group of only three members—Angie, Jimmy, and Nona herself—but they got the job done. Not only that, but word of their musical prowess was constantly spreading and bringing in more and more patrons, much to the delight of Dino's current manager, Boots.

Dino's was a magnet for freaks, but it was still a family business. After all, the Bootzins were a family of freaks. Dean I, Dino, had been a Beatnik and married a Flower Person from San Francisco, named Gigi. Gigi and Dino got married in a Wiccan ceremony and later had Dean II, Junior, who managed the bar for a while and became a Heavy Rocker. Junior traveled the world, attending progressive blues and early metal concerts, and met a girl named Louisa who was a little bit leather and a little bit lace, and they eventually had Dean III, Boots.

Boots, Dean Cornelius Bootzin III, was a Punk Rocker with ocean blue hair and a sense for business and loved Dino's Bar & Grille; it was his home and his legacy and he treasured it like most men treasure the women they marry. He grew up in the apartment above it and lived there now that his parents had a place in the suburbs where they drove their neighbors crazy. He ate, drank, breathed, dreamed, and lived Dino's Bar & Grille, and the kids who came there reaped the benefits.

"Now, I know y'all heard me the first time," Nona said, pretending to be annoyed. The crowd yelled louder, and she could hear hoots and whistles. Nona smirked. "Now, that's what I'm talking about. I know what you like, boys and girls; I know how fast you like to live."

She plucked a few strings as Jimmy strummed out a melody, and Angie sat at attention behind them. There was a short burst of even _louder_ screaming before they quieted down, and Jimmy gave Nona a smile; as with every night, the Foundlings had the kids eating out of their hands.

The beat picked up, and she sang.

**He was a hard-headed man, he was brutally handsome  
And she was terminally pretty  
She held him up and he held for ransom  
In the heart of the cold, cold city  
He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude  
They said he was ruthless, said he was crude  
They had one thing in common  
They were good in bed  
She said, faster, faster  
The lights are turning red**

Jimmy and Angie sang around her in the chorus.

**_Life in the fast lane_**

**Surely make you lose your mind**

**_Life in the fast lane_**

"Are you with me so far?**"** Nona asked teasingly in her sultry voice. There were some laughs and cheers from the crowd, and Jimmy ran his fingers up the frets of his guitar, producing a sound like a happy cat.

**Eager for action, hot for the game  
The calling attraction, the drop of the name  
They knew all the right people  
They took all the right pills  
They threw outrageous parties  
They paid heavenly bills  
There were lines on the mirror, lines on her face  
She pretended not to notice, she was caught up in the race  
Out every evening until it was light  
He was too tired to make it, she was too tired to fight about it**

**_Life in the fast lane_**

Surely make you lose your mind

_Life in the fast lane  
Life in the fast lane_

Everything all the time

_Life in the fast lane_

Jimmy took this opportunity to play a solo that was about a minute and a half longer than usual, and Nona was annoyed, but she let it slide. He was a ham, but he was a great guy. At a mere 5'1" Jimmy Edogawa was considered small (though you never said so if you knew what was good for you), but what he lacked in stature, he made up for in swagger. The eighteen year-old had attitude, with the way he strummed his six-string and his bright purple reverse mullet, and he was a beloved character in the neighborhood. Not just for his swagger, but for his sound. 

In fact, Jimmy's playing was almost always described as a religious experience. The strange patrons of Dino's adored Jimmy and the way he played, and spoke of him as if he were their savior. Some even referred to him as Saint Jimmy, after the Green Day song.

**Glowing and burning, blinded by thirst  
They didn't see the stop sign  
Took a turn for the worse  
She said, listen baby, you can hear the engine rev  
We've up and down this highway, haven't seen a goddamn thing  
He said, call the doctor, I think Im gonna crash  
The doctor say he's coming but you gotta pay in cash  
They were rushing down that freeway,  
Messed around and got lost  
They didn't care they were just dying to get off and it was**

There was a crash of drums and they continued the final chorus.

**_Life in the fast lane_**

Surely make you lose your mind

_Life in the fast lane  
Life in the fast lane_

Everything all the time

_Life in the fast lane  
Life in the fast lane_

Jimmy played them out of the Eagles hit with a guitar riff that was almost supernatural, even better for being accompanied by Angie's drums and a heavy backbeat, and the band immediately went into a David Bowie number from his Ziggy Stardust days.

* * *

"So, what's the name of this rat's nest you're dragging us to?" 

"It's not a rat's nest; it's a club; Dino's Bar & Grille. Would you quit griping already, Nolo?" Tork rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"I'm just...not sure, is all. I mean, you guys are into metal, and some of those guys are seriously hardcore. We like trance techno, and our types aren't welcome in places like that. We could be eaten alive."

"Would you relax?" he said, laughing. "The manager and I go way back, plus my cousin's band plays there on Friday nights. You guys'll be treated like family."

Nolo reluctantly gave up on trying to talk Tork out of the outing; obviously, it wasn't working. Most of their group was sitting in Mel's room, which was serving as a lounge of sorts because she didn't mind being with other people. "How do you know this guy, anyway?"

"I been coming to Vegas every other year since I was six to spend the summer with my Aunt and her daughter," he answered. "Auntie Keesha runs a daycare center, so I was there hanging out with all the little kids my age. Dean was one of my best friends there and the club's in his family. He really nice; trust me."

Mel bounded up to them, bouncing on the bed as she landed. "So what's the place like, anyway? Is it a biker bar?"

Tork tensed, unsure of how to answer. Finally, he looked down at the youngest Metal Maniac apologetically. "It's an eighteen and over club," he said. "I'm sorry Mel, but they've been busted before and they always card. Even with my connections, they won't let you in."

"What?!" she shrieked. "That's not fair! What am I supposed to do?! Stay here alone?!"

"I said I was sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, and ushered Nolo, Monkey and Porkchop out the door.

Wylde put a comforting arm around her. "Hey, it's cool, Mel; I'll stay here with you." As soon as they were gone, he started thinking of ways to cheer up his precious kitten. "I read the brochure for this place, Mel; you're gonna love it here. They got built in carnival rides downstairs and an arcade, and free live circus acts all the time, and maybe we can get something to eat—"

Wylde stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a loud click. He turned around and saw that Mel was locking the door. She was beautiful in a short red plaid skirt she used to have to wear to her Catholic school, stunning him with her gorgeous legs. Wylde gasped as Mel took a step towards him, opening the top button on her black blouse, and he couldn't help but stare dumbly at the little bit of her chest she had exposed.

"Mel," he murmured in surprise. Mel walked up to him and kissed him; they had both waited so long. Wylde held her tight and close to him, his hands around her hips and shoulders, and Mel ran her fingers through his hair. Finally, she broke the kiss.

**Wild thing, I think I love you  
But I wanna know for sure  
Come on and hold me tight  
I love you**

She kissed him again. Breathing sharply in his arms, Mel whispered "Mark," and he lowered her onto the bed. Wylde kissed her on the neck and turned out the light.

* * *

A/N: So, I used that song that that person requested (I can't recall your name, but YOU know who you are) for the Foundlings' first set; I've been working on those three, and Boots, and six others for a long time, and hopefully I can get to them all, but I think you'll love them. 


	4. Join Me for a Drink, Boys

A/N: What the hell, guys?! I only got one review for the last chapter!! Did you all just DROP OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH?!?! Ya know what? No. That's okay. That's cool. Because Saturday the 24th, I'm gonna hop a Greyhound bus to Toronto, hunt down Kawaii Yamato, and kick her square in the ass. JK!! I would never do something like that. But I'm still going to Toronto to see Evil Dead the Musical and We Will Rock You. This chapter is dedicated to HaloFin17 who loyally reads every chapter and never drops off the face of the Earth.

SOUNDTRACK: "Have a Drink On Me" by AC:DC; "The Boys Are Back in Town" by Thin Lizzy.

* * *

"I'm back! Oh, man, this street ain't changed at all!"

"It's only been two years, Tork," Monkey said.

Tork turned to them. "Yeah, I know, but I still love the place like it was my own. Did you know that Dino's Bar & Grille was founded by a bunch of beatniks and hippies? There's a big psychedelic mural on the back wall that depicts Marilyn Monroe and and Albert Einstein dancing the tango and smoking pot."

He took a deep breath and sighed with contentedness.

Vert smiled. "Hippies? Sounds like my kinda place." He nudged Nolo with his elbow as he spoke. "Nice and friendly, right, man?"

Nolo had to admit that his uneasiness was beginning to subside. "Hippies aren't so bad, I guess. A little annoying, but I can put up with them."

"Yeah," Tork said distractedly. "Of course, it's mostly Punks and Goths what come here now; a bunch of kids who show up because these are the only folks who understand them. They are weird, but I like them."

"Oh. Great."

"Ah, shaddup. This is a vacation, a celebration, a time to let go of all that garbage that's piled up in your skull and have some fun!" He grinned and laughed. "You guys need to relax, and so do I. We all need this."

**So join me for a drink boys  
Were gonna make a big noise  
So dont worry about tomorrow  
Take it today  
Forget about the cheque  
Well get hell to pay**

Monkey and Porkchop whooped it up, heading out of the parking lot to the club across the street. The rest of the group laughed, and followed them to Dino's Bar & Grille.

* * *

Mikki helped Nona with her bass, placing it delicately on its guitar stand; it was one of his jobs to make sure all equipment was properly taken care of, and he took it very seriously. Mikhail Ilyich Kalishnikova was a Russian boy of an average height, with messy yellow-blonde hair that fell just below his ears. He dressed almost exclusively in black, as he had since the sixth grade, and wore seven silver piercings in each ear. 

"Excellent set as always, Nona," he said without any accent at all; his mother had come to America just a month before his birth. "You'll make it any time now."

"That's what you say every night, Mikki," she smirked. Nona gave him a light punch on his arm, and his carton of cigarettes fell on the floor. The bassist's expression changed to one of disappointment. "Mikki, I thought you quit. C'mon, man, you're breaking my heart here."

He snatched the Newports from her hand. "I can quit any time I want, Nona. I just don't want to yet."

"Mikki—"

"I'm going out for a smoke break."

Nona sighed as their roadie and one of her closest friends slammed the door that led to the alley, shaking her head. "What are we gonna do with you, Mikki?"

* * *

Who did she think she was, anyway? His mother? Mikki pulled out his lighter, a little flip top number with skulls carved on it, looking towards the mouth of the alley, and his cigarette dropped to the ground. 

Walking towards the entrance of Dino's Bar & Grille was Tork Maddox in a black leather jacket, along with the two red headed white guys that had accompanied him on his last trip. He wasn't certain, but if Mikki remembered correctly, then their names were Monkey and Porkchop. There were also two girls and three guys he didn't recognize, but they could've been there by coincidence. He strained his ears, trying to hear the conversation that took place between Tork and Boots as he entered the club.

He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it seemed that Tork wanted to know where Nona was.

"You know her, Tommy," he said a little too loudly. "Driving all the old men crazy in that apartment downtown…"

Mikki ducked back in through the stage door before he could be spotted, coughing from surprise.

"I told ya you needed to quit," Nona said snidely. "Those things are killing you."

He snarled at her. "Okay, first, I went almost two weeks without a smoke and this was my one little cheat, so get off my back. And second, remember how you said you had a good feeling about tonight?"

Nona looked to Jimmy, who was playing solitaire on the armrest of the La-Z-Boy they had in the dressing room. "He's right, Nona; you did say that." Jimmy lay down the six of hearts over the seven of spades.

"Okay, so I said it. So what?"

Mikki pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the alley door. "Guess who I just saw," he said. "Go on. Guess."

"Billy Joe Armstrong!" Angie called in his sleep. "Oh, I'd be honored to play onstage with you!" He turned over on the couch and snored loudly.

"Nothing like that, I'm afraid. Tork's back in town again, and he brought his boys along."

Jimmy dropped his cards in shock. "The Metal Maniacs are _here?!_ Aww, jeez."

"Man, he couldn't have called first?" she snapped. "Are you _sure_ it's Tork?"

"It's them, Nona. It's absolutely them."

Angie stirred and sat up on the couch, glaring sleepily up at them. "Dudes, you know I need my nap in between sets or I play lousy. So what's all the hubbub, bub?"

Mikki answered without missing a beat.

**Guess who just got back today?  
Those wild-eyed boys that had been away  
Haven't changed, haven't much to say  
But man, I still think those cats are great**

He turned to Nona.

**Tork was asking if you were around  
How you was, where you could be found  
Boots told them you were living downtown  
Driving all the old men crazy**

**The boys are back in town**  
**The boys are back in town**

_**The boys are back in town?**_

**Yeah, the boys are back in town**

"Holy crap," Angie said. "Oh, dudes, I had such a great time when they were here last time."

_**Remember how Anya used to dance a lot?  
Every night she'd be on the floor shaking what she got  
Man, when I tell you she was cool, she was red hot  
I mean she was steaming**__  
__**That night over at Demitri's place  
Well Anya got up and she slapped Monkey's face  
Man we just fell about the place  
If that chick don't want to know, don't tell her**_

"Now, that was funny," Nona laughed, but Jimmy still wasn't to keen on it. You could tell just by looking at him. "What are you so nervous about?"

"I kinda, sorta…owe Porkchop some money," he admitted, shaking his head. "I can't believe they're back."

"Well you better believe it, Jimmy," Mikki told him.

**Cuz the boys are back in town**  
**The boys are back in town**

**The boys are back in towooowowown**  
**The boys are back in town**

**Are you sure they're back in town?**  


**Yeah, they're back in town**

**The boys are back in town**  
**The boys are back in town**

**It's Friday night and they're dressed to kill  
Here at Dino's Bar & Grille  
Drink will flow and blood will spill-  
If the boys want to fight, I'm gonna let them**  
**And your amps onstage blasting out my favorite songs  
The nights are cooling off, now it won't be long  
It won't be long 'til Autumn comes  
Now that the boys are here again**

_My boys are back in town  
The boys are back in town_

**The boys are back in town, Nona, baby**  
**The boys are back in town**

"I'll spread the word around," Angie said, getting out his cell phone. Someone picked up on the other end, and he blurted out, "Guess who's back in town? …Yeah, the boys are back in town again; they're hangin' down at Dino's."

He turned to them, his eyes pleading. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Mikki shook his head and grinned; Angie was one year his senior, but he could be so childlike sometimes. "Yeah, I'm sorry, little drummer boy. We'll try to keep it down."

Angie slumped down again, cuddling Animal, the pink Muppet who drummed for Doctor Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Within moments, he was snoring loud as ever, but the others didn't skip a beat.

"This didn't happen, got it?" Nona said. "We go out there, we play the show, and we don't even look their way. At least not until the last song. We have to be professional and play a good show; we owe it to the fans."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "God, you sound pretentious."

"Just shut up and pretend they aren't here, Jimmy."

He nodded and agreed to the plan, and they waited out the rest of intermission.

* * *

"You guys are gonna love it here," Boots said. He led the mixed group out of the hall and cupped his hands around his mouth. "YO! WHITEY!!" 

"Yes, boss?"

Boots nearly jumped out of his skin, holding onto a barstool for dear life; an extremely pale boy with snow white hair and pink eyes had appeared behind him, as if from nowhere. "Don't DO that!! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" The boy did not flinch, and Boots sighed. "Whatever. Memorize these faces, Whitey; this is my friend, Tork Maddox, and these are all his friends. Any friend of his is a friend of mine, so they all drink on the house, savvy? Don't charge 'em."

Whitey raised an eyebrow. "You sure, boss? That's an awful lot of friends."

"It's a good crowd tonight, Whitey; we can afford it." He smiled, knocking shoulders with Tork. "I got a club to run, so I'll see ya 'round, 'kay?"

Whitey sighed, putting on a kind but tired smile. "Hey, I'm Whitey, I'll be serving you this evening—"

"Oh, I can't call you that," Nolo said with a hint of guilt. "That's such a cruel nickname. C'mon, man, what's your real name?"

"Casper," he said, his voice cool and even. Nolo made a choking sound as if he was desperately trying to hold back a laugh, thrust out his hand and forced a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Whitey!"

Whitey ignored Nolo for the moment and scurried around, taking everyone's orders with that same half sad smile; he always focused on his work. When he got to Taro, the Metal Maniac had been planning to just get a soda or something, but Karma sat down right next to him with a certain gleam in her eye.

"Two tequilas, Whitey," she said. "And leave the bottle."

Taro's heart filled with dread, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he politely said, before Whitey could hurry off, "I don't know, Karma. I mean, I drove here, so I really shouldn't—"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Then we'll walk back to the hotel. Night Prowler will be fine in the parking lot. Right, Whitey?"

Whitey nodded in agreement. Taro looked at them both uneasily, unsure of what to do. If he told Karma the truth, he could drive her away, but if he drank, he'd end up doing something he'd regret anyway. But, then, a thought occurred to him: maybe the problem wasn't that he drank, but that he drank too much. If he paced himself, he'd be fine.

"You heard the lady," Taro said with a smile, and slipped a twenty dollar bill into Whitey's chest pocket.

"I can't accept this. Boss said not to charge you."

"Tips don't count," Taro said, and shooed him away. Moments later, Whitey reappeared with a bottle of Jose Cuervo and two glasses on a tray. "Cheers," he said, and Taro and Karma did a shot together. Almost immediately, the usually stoic pair loosened up, and before long, they were trading stories of idiotic things their teammates had done.

They'd only been at Dino's a half an hour, but Taro and Karma had already had four tequilas each. So much for pacing himself, Taro thought, but he was too drunk to care. He was with Karma, and drunk or sober, he was happy.

* * *

A/N: Well, that's the end of that chapter. I seriously hope you liked it! And I will try to write faster, but I am at work a lot now, so please be patient. Also: Kawaii, I'm not going to hurt you. You were just the only one who lived in Toronto that I could mention. 


	5. It's! It's! A Ballroom Blitz!

A/N: Toronto kicks ass!! OMG! It's like Buffalo, except nothing is abandoned and there's lots of stuff to do! Evil Dead was soooo cool, and We Will Rock You definitely lived up to its promise. I think I might live there some day. Canada is so awesome...

SOUNDTRACK: "Ballroom Blitz" by Sweet.

* * *

"Angelo," she whispered, nudging her drummer as he lay on the couch in their dressing room. Angie was still shirtless, cuddling the furry pink rockstar Animal. Sighing, Nona grabbed the plushie and yanked. Almost immediately Angie stirred.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled uneasily. "What? What is it?"

"Intermission's over, Angel Mae," she said, ruffling his hair.

"He glared at her. "That's Angel _Dave._ My middle name isn't Mae, it's David."

Jimmy already had his guitar strap slung across his shoulders as he hurriedly chugged his orange soda and finished his hand of poker with their roadie, Mikki Kalishnikova.

"Full house!" the over pierced Russian called, sweeping up the gummy bears on the table and shoveling them into his mouth. "Dude, you beherr geh ow theah."

"Yeah, see ya," Jimmy said, but he muttered to Nona as he walked onstage. "He cheated."

"You're just mad because ya lost your gummy bears," Nona said, and she and Angie followed the purple haired Jap out.

* * *

This place wasn't so bad; the people were different, but they all just seemed to go with the flow. No one acted like they had anything to prove; they all just wanted to have a good time. Vert found himself wanting get to know as many of the bar patrons as possible. He'd been cooped up with the same twelve people at the Acceledrome that he was bored with his own friends. 

Vert was just beginning to scope out the crowd when he heard a beat start up and a pounding bassline coming from the stage. Soon there was a beautiful, classic sounding riff accompanying them, but that was nothing compared to what happened next.

What really got Vert's attention was a booming voice, sweet but rasping, feminine but powerful, like the Motown queens of old his mother so adored. She was somewhere between Diana Ross and Janis Joplin, with all her soul and hard rock style, and before he even saw her, he was mesmerized.

A sign near the door billed the band as "The Foundlings" and also stated that it was a classic covers night. If so, then they were digging pretty deep and pulling a fast one with a punk version of some old Johnny Cash number whose name he wasn't sure of; it was either Big River or Folsom Prison, but he didn't know for sure. The crowd pushed its way up towards the stage, and Vert laughed. It was a big, sincere laugh that hadn't been heard from him in a while.

"These guys are killer!" he yelled over the music. "Nolo, I'll see you later, okay?"

As he pushed his way through the crowd, Vert studied every inch of the bassist, cheering all the while. Her cerulean eyes contrasted beautifully with her chocolate skin, and gold sparkled from her ears, her wrists, her belly button and her left nostril. It was pretty rare to find a black girl who could be called a punk rocker, which made this girl, with her tight Iron Maiden baby doll tee, her combat boots and her British flag bell bottoms all the more a treasure in his eyes. Vert didn't understand why, but he knew he had to play for keeps.

Meanwhile, Nolo was stuck at the table with Tork and Porkchop. The leader of the Metal Maniacs was telling them about how he 'borrowed' his aunt's car the summer he got his license. Nolo wasn't very interested in the story, so he started looking around the club. In the opposite corner were some serious looking college types in turtleneck sweaters and black berets, debating something or other. Two similar looking blonde girls with beautiful faces but muscular bodies were at a table eating curly fries. Whitey scurried up to them with two baskets of chicken strips and ketchup. A hippie in a tie-dyed tee shirt and filthy jeans whizzed by on a spinning office chair, proclaiming "WHEEEE!" very loudly. Boots chased after him with a super soaker that appeared to be filled with hot sauce, shouting obscenities over the band as he ducked around the dancing patrons in the front. And at the table nearest to them, Karma and Taro were shooting tequila.

"Oh fuck."

"It wasn't that serious," Tork said. "Auntie Keesha was pretty upset, but she didn't call the cops or anything, man."

"No, Tork, Karma's drinking."

"So what? It's free."

"Look, man, it's like this," Nolo said. "Karma can handle whiskey, vodka, or beer, but with tequila, it's like she's a whole other person. My scars still haven't healed from last time."

"I thought Wylde gave you those," Porkchop joked, but his smile vanished when Nolo pulled down his shirt collar. There were a number of jagged slash marks just below his collar bone that had been stitched up. "Hot damn! She pulled a knife?!"

"Broken liquor bottle," Nolo corrected. "I don't know what I should do, man. If I can stop her, I should, but she gets so scary…"

Tork nodded to Porkchop. "We'll back you up, man. God forbid she turned on Taro or some innocent bystander."

And in a few minutes, Nolo swallowed hard, stepping up to where the usually level headed girl sat. He knew he shouldn't be so worried; Porkchop and Tork were right there, and they were really big guys.

Nolo had known Karma Eiss since she met Tone in the first grade, and she had bullied him more than a little when he was small. Subsequent incidents when she binge drank didn't make him very eager to even be in the same room with her right now. But as leader of the Teku, he was responsible for his teammates; Tone would have done the same thing in his place.

"Karma," he said, trying not to shake. He smiled, and she giggled.

"Nolitito!!" she said. "C'mon! Sit down and have a drink with us. Taro was just saying how we should all hang out more."

"Actually, um, that drink was what I wanted to talk to you about. How many have you had?" His smile wavered, and she sent a death glare up at him, cold as her namesake. Cold as Eiss. "We've only just got here a little while ago, and I know you've had at least four—"

"Six rounds of Jose Cuervo!" Taro happily chirped in a sing-song voice. The poor drunk thought he was helping, but Karma yanked hard on his pony tail, pulling back his head. He yelped.

"You need to shut up now, sweetie," she hissed. "And YOU" she bellowed, "need to back the fuck off."

The crowd cheered as the music faded for just a moment. The bassist spoke. "Hello again, my beauties! Is it happening?"

They cheered to answer her. "Great. Well, as you know, our second set is almost over, and we gotta go soon. Aww, c'mon, don't be that way; I got people to see. After all, the Metal Maniacs are here. Ain't that right, boys?"

Angie and Jimmy answered together. "Yes, Nona!!"

"Are you ready, Jimmy?"

"Ready!"

"Angie?"

"Oh yeah."

"All right, fellas…let's GO!!"

The music started up again to go with what she had said, but Nolo and Karma took no notice. They were too busy staring each other down. "Karma, please don't do this; you're going to embarrass yourself," he said calmly. "I am here to help you."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?!"

**Oh it's been getting so hard  
Livin' with the things you do to me, aha  
Oh my dreams are getting so strange  
I'd like to tell you everything I see**

Nolo pleaded with her. "Karma, stop this. I'm begging you, as a friend, to put down that bottle and go back to the hotel with us."

"You'll never be as good as Tone was!!" she screamed, swinging the half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo at him. "You don't control me!!"

**Oh, I see a man at the back, as a matter of fact  
His eyes are red as the sun  
And a girl in the corner letting no one ignore her  
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one**

Nolo ducked just in time to avoid getting a liquor bottle smashed in his face, but Tork had been momentarily distracted by the band and was not quite so lucky. The glass shattered over his forehead as his knees buckled, and Tork fell to the floor in a heap. From across the room, Boots gasped at the fight that had broken out and called for his bouncers. "Lexi! Tasha! Look alive!!"

**Oh, yeah, it was like lightning, everybody was frightening  
And the music was soothing, and they all started grooving**

The tall, muscular blonde girls Nolo had spotted earlier leapt from their table and entered the fray, pulling the Teku and the Maniacs apart. After Karma's blow to Tork's head, Porkchop had tried to pry her away from Nolo as she kicked and screamed, but he wasn't having much luck. The female Teku had already kicked him between his legs and went on to punch Nolo in the face. Monkey heard all the commotion and tried to step in, but he couldn't do much without hurting her, and Karma wouldn't be held.

**Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah  
And the man at the back said  
Everyone attack and it turned into a ballroom blitz  
And the girl in the corner said  
Boy, I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz  
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz,  
Ballroom blitz ballroom blitz**

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU DAMN DIRTY APES!!" Karma screeched, and somehow managed to flip both Monkey and the girls over, kicking them easily aside. Not to keen on waiting for them to get up, Taro grabbed Karma by the wrist and bolted out the door.

**I'm reaching out for something  
Touching nothing's all I ever do  
Oh, I softly call you over  
When you appear there's nothing left of you**

Within a few minutes, the two had run back to the main strip. Taro leaned against a wall to catch his breath and they laughed.

"I can't believe you just did that," he said, snickering. "That was unbelievable. You are unbelievable."

**And the man in the back  
Is ready to crack as he raises his hands to the sky  
And the girl in the corner is everyone's mourner  
She could kill you with a wink of her eye**

"Thanks, I know," she said. Karma rested her head on Taro's shoulder, and then suddenly stood upright, checking her pockets. "Shit! My keys!"

"You probably lost 'em back at the bar. Fuck it, Karma. We'll walk." She shrugged and they wandered for a bit, until they saw a flock of Elvis impersonators and decided to follow them instead.

**Oh yeah, it was electric, so frightfully hectic  
And the band started leaving, 'cause they all stopped breathing**

Porkchop and Nolo were the first to rise from the floor, and they both wished they had never heard the name Karma Eiss.

**Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah  
And the man at the back said  
Everyone attack and it turned into a ballroom blitz  
And the girl in the corner said  
Boy, I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz  
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz  
Ballroom blitz  
**

"Damn, you weren't kiddin' about her," Porkchop said in a slightly higher voice than usual. Monkey stood up next to him, shaking his head to clear it, the small cuts on his face healing. Lexi and Tasha dusted Tork off as they set him gently in his chair. He looked around in a daze, extremely pale for someone with such a dark complexion, and moaned.

**Oh yeah, it was like lightning, everybody was frightening  
And the music was soothing, and they all started grooving  
‎  
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah  
And the man at the back said  
Everyone attack and it turned into a ballroom blitz  
And the girl in the corner said  
Boy, I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz  
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz  
Ballroom blitz  
‎  
It's it's a ballroom blitz, it's it's a ballroom blitz  
It's it's a ballroom blitz, yeah, it's a ballroom blitz**

A few patrons were already leaving the bar, but Vert used the opportunity to try to get backstage. He was so focused on getting backstage, in fact, that he couldn't hear the announcement the singer made and he failed to notice her jump off the stage and head towards Tork's table afterwards.

"Thank you, we love you too!!" the she called. "And please give a warm welcome to the former champion, Tork Maddox. Lord knows after a beating like that, he could use the love."

The bar erupted into wild applause as she went to her cousin, closely followed by the drummer Angie, but not by Jimmy; he was afraid of Porkchop and went backstage to hide.

Without delay, Whitey scurried up to the table with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, several mugs of nice, hot tea and a bottle of aspirin. He quickly cleaned out the small cuts on Tork's forehead with peroxide. "Get well soon, champ," he sneered, and seemed to disappear into thin air.

"Oh, poor baby," Nona said, hugging Tork. "Damn, Tork, are you okay?"

"The floor broke my fall, he said sarcastically, and winced.

"Well, at least it didn't affect your sense of humor," she said with a worried smile. "Anyway, what's with just showing up like this, Cuz? Not even your mom can get a hold of you for weeks on end, and then you just pop in out of nowhere? Where the _hell_ were you?"

"Umm…places…"

Angie, who had followed Nona down from the stage and was sitting on a nearby barstool, laughed. "Oh, this is just silly. Who writes this crap?" He furrowed his eyebrows as if he was being told the answer and looked down at a pepper shaker. "Really? She would? With an _axe?_ Sounds like that Fenrir's Daughter is one crazy broad, man; thanks for the warning." Nolo looked at Angie strangely, but everyone else just ignored him.

"What the _hell_ kinda answer is 'places?'" Nona griped, but Tork defused the situation as best as he could.

"Look, none of that matters right now, okay, Nona?" He sighed, trying to smile, but he winced again from pain. "Look, I got some new friends here that you haven't met before, so, umm, this is Nolo."

Nona nodded and shook his hand. "Yeah, you look familiar; I mighta spotted you at a race when I was in LA last summer."

"This is Monkey's girlfriend, Lani, the one who hit me was Karma, the guy who ran out with her was Taro, and this is—" but he stopped. Vert was nowhere to be found. "Hey, where's Vert? He really liked the show; I thought he'd wanna meet you guys."

"Pfft. You know what?" Nolo said. "He kept pushing through the moshpit. I bet that fool tried to get backstage." He waved and left to find Vert.

* * *

A/N: I tried, and I hope this is okay; I just didn't write my notes too clearly, so I ended up confusing myself...Wierd, huh? I even boggle my own mind. You would not BELIEVE how many errors the whole some in standard, some in bold format causes. This site just will NOT behave. Ughh. 


	6. Across the Alleyway

A/N: Sorry for making you wait, Halo, she said, knowing only one person was reading...

**EDIT!** I was so eager to get this posted that I accidentally forgot the Soundtrack listings! Terribly sorry, folks, but here it is. Incidentally, for every song in the chapters I post on the site, I post a link to a youtube video for the songs to go with it. The links are in my profile!

SOUNDTRACK: "Hosanna" from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice; "St. Jimmy" by Greenday.

* * *

"Move it!" he said, pushing some kid with a mowhawk out of the way; Vert couldn't even explain it to himself, but he _had_ to meet the bassist. He just _had_ to. He was coming up on the stage now; just a few more steps and—

But it wasn't meant to be. "There you are, blondie! C'mon, there's someone you should meet."

"But- but- NOLO! I gotta meet the band! I just gotta, man, they were so—"

"Well, maybe if you paid attention once in a while," Nolo said, taking the blonde's arm, "You would remember that the lead singer is Tork's younger cousin, Nona, and we were all supposed to hang out after the concert."

Vert's heart skipped a beat as he willingly followed Nolo back to the table. "Seriously?"

"Dude, like, seriously!" Nolo said, mocking Vert's voice, and in a moment they were back with what remained of the group, plus two extras; a black girl stood with her back to them, and still on his barstool, talking to himself, was the drummer Angie. Lani looked at him sidelong, mildly concerned, and whispered to Monkey.

"Is he on drugs?"

"No, he's off of them," he told her. "Angie's a delusional schizophrenic. He skips his meds before a gig because they make him sleepy and he doesn't play as well. The voices come back, but he's absolutely harmless."

Tork smiled weakly as Nolo brought the blonde up to them, and told the girl to turn around. She was even more attractive up close. "Vert, this is my cousin, Nona; she's—"

"Got the most beautiful voice I've ever heard!!" he said, taking her hand in both of his. He kissed it and held it against his chest while she looked at him in shock and amusement. "You were amazing on stage, really! I mean, I just—Girl, you put Aretha to shame."

He stared into her eyes and smiled, and Porkchop snickered, but Nona rolled her eyes and sighed. "Aw, jeez, Mikki," she said, and another blonde leapt from the shadows to tackle Vert.

"Hands off the brown sugar!!" he yelled, taking Vert to the floor; it was their roadie, Mikki, just as Nona had said, but she was stunned to see him. There was something strange going on. The two started to fight, but Lexi and Tasha pried them apart and both boys were screaming at each other in Russian. Nona looked down at them and stared, as did the Metal Maniacs, and it was obvious as to why.

"Mikki," Nona said with a trembling voice, "take a good look at the guy you were beating the crap out of. Calm down, and you two—oh, man, just look at you two…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he complained, but he and Vert did as she asked, and their minds were blown.

There were a few differences, sure; Mikki was dressed almost all in black with heavy eyeliner and pale skin, whereas Vert's clothes were a little brighter and his skin was kissed by the sun from all the surfing he did. Mikki's hair hung across his forehead in a swoop, and Vert's stuck out in all directions. But there was no mistaking it; the heights were the same, the builds were the same, the eyes and the shape of the face… Vert and Mikki looked just alike.

Finally, Angie came away from his conversation with the pepper shaker to laugh as he noticed the situation, and, really, he said it best. "Fill my eyes with that double vision! Mikki, you never told me you had a twin!"

"I didn't know," he answered quietly, and the two helped each other from the floor. By now, Vert had all but forgotten about his precious nightingale, deep in a whirlwind of confusion, and Mikki felt the same.

"This is freaky. What the hell is going on?"

"I grew up in an orphanage," Mikki said sadly, "If I had to guess, I'd say you got adopted and I didn't."

"This is such a cliché; I feel like I'm in a cheesy soap opera," Vert muttered. He excused himself to make a quick phone call, and then decided to help Mikki with the band's gear to get his mind off of things.

Nona sighed as the two blondes left them and turned to Tork. "Damn, I never have a normal night when you guys come around. Y'all are a bunch of freaks, is what you are. This...is just crazy."

"Sometimes, life is stranger than fiction," he said.

"Thomas Jamaal Maddox, that was downright philosophical of you," she said with a smirk.

"Must have a concussion," he said, and they left out the front and headed to the alley to wait for Jimmy, who always went out the back.

* * *

The alley behind the stage was too narrow to park the van behind the bar, and so the pair of blondes had to carry all of the equipment out the front door and to the parking lot across the street. It was a bit of a pain, but they worked in silence, each too afraid to bring up what really had them worried. It was just too much. Was Vert adopted? And if he was, then why hadn't the Major or his wife ever told him? Wouldn't that have come up at some point? And why didn't they take both of them? Was it all just coincidence? Did they just happen to look alike? 

"That's the last of it," Mikki finally said and wiped the dust from his hands.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Jimmy still has his guitar; he's got this thing about no one touching Wren but him."

Vert snickered. "He named his guitar _Wren?"_

Mikki shrugged. "Anyway, they should be waiting for us in the…alley…"

Vert turned the corner and realized why Mikki was so awestruck; the alley was packed at least twenty deep with kids, all chanting for Jimmy to come out for them, and at the back of the crowd was an irate Nona Maddox and excited fans rambling away.

"St. Jimmy is, like, spiritual, man!!" a kid with square black glasses screamed over the rest. "Jimmy Edogawa is what Jimi Hendrix coulda been if he hadn't died!"

"I KNOW!! It's like he's the reincarnation or something!"

"This has _got_ to be a fire hazard!" Nona whined. "I don't think even Lexi and Tasha could get them out now. I hope no one calls the cops…"

Jimmy peeked his head out of the door, but upon seeing the crowd at his door, he yelped and ducked back in, his purple hair swaying in the lamp light. The kids were unperturbed, however, and kept chanting.

"What are they saying?" Lani murmured, straining to listen, but they started over again soon enough.

_**Hosanna Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Ho  
Sanna hey Sanna Hosanna  
Oh, your fans, Jimmy, they're no tragedy  
Sanna Hosanna hey Superstar  
Jimmy, can't you see? Life's a comedy!  
Sanna Hosanna Hey Superstar  
**_

"Superstar?" Monkey said. "Huh. That's a new one."

Nona rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, shaking her head. "It's been like this ever since we opened for Green Day in the spring. They have a song called St Jimmy, and Mike, Tre and Billy Joe were so impressed with his sound they asked him onstage to play with them at the end. Most of these kids were at the show. That's why they keep calling him a saint."

"We never get a moment's peace," Angie said, smiling softly and absentmindedly twirling his drumsticks between his fingers. "But it's worth it. He'll just have to learn to live with fame. You can't give these kids an inch or they walk all over you."

Monkey nodded that he understood, and Jimmy finally called out through the dressing room window; his voice was a dull roar, far from the fearful cry he had uttered earlier. "Alright, you vultures! I'm coming out, so you better give me some space, or else!!"

The crowd shrieked for joy, and the one with the glasses called out to the rest, screaming hysterically to the pink haired girl, "He's coming! Jimmy's coming!!"

_St. Jimmy's coming down across the alleyway  
Upon the blvd, like a zip gun on parade  
Light of a silhouette, he's insubordinate  
Coming at you on the count of 1, 2—_

"1,2,3,4!!" Jimmy yelled from a seond floor window, and somersaulted out. His fans below gasped, but he landed perfectly on his feet, balanced on a narrow brick wall, his guitar whirling around to his front, and he grinned.

**My name is Jimmy and you better not wear it out  
Suicide commando that your momma talked about  
King of the 40 thieves and I'm here to represent  
The needle in the vein of the establishment**

**I'm the patron saint of the denial  
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal**

**Cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope  
I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allan Poe  
Raised in the city in a halo of lights  
Product of war and fear that we've been victimized**

**I'm the patron saint of the denial  
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal**

"ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!" Jimmy shook his fist at the crowd who had gathered for him and only him; he appreciated the sentiment, but really! Didn't he deserve a split second of calm to himself at all?! But he knew that the show must go on; you have to give the people what they want, or they will tear you apart. And so, he played along as someone called his name. "GET THOSE HANDS IN THE AIR!!"

**My name is St. Jimmy, I'm a son of a gun  
I'm the one that's from the way outside now  
A teenage assassin executing some fun  
In the cult of life of crime now  
I'd really hate to say it but, I told you so  
So shut your mouth before I shoot you down, old boy  
Welcome to the club and give me some blood  
I am the resident leader of the lost and found  
**

_**It's comedy and tragedy  
It's St. Jimmy**_

"And that's my name!" he said, adding with a grin, "And don't wear it out!!"

Jimmy fell backwards off the wall and into the sea of screaming fans, and they passed him along until they got him to the mixed group at the mouth of the alley and set him on his feet.

"Well? Well?" he asked them, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Can I give an encore, or can I give an encore?"

"Dunno about encores, but you can sure ham it up when you want to."

"Aww, Na-chan, don't be like that…"

Nona shook her head and smiled, but Mikki interrupted her before she could say anything. "Dude, don't even start. No more arguing; it's been a long night." He spoke with complete seriousness, and they could tell he was desperately trying not to snap at them. "Can we please just get to the diner and sort things out?"

"Sounds like a plan!" Vert chirped. "I could use a bite!"

Jimmy stared at the two blondes who stood side by side before him, pointing with his mouth open but unable to speak. They sensed his confusion and answered him together.

"Twins."

"Well, bite my lip and close my eyes; the things that happen in this city," he said, edging away from Porkchop. "So, umm, who are these people?"

Nona quickly explained about Lani, Nolo, and Vert, and how they knew Tork from L.A.

"Well," he said, "welcome to Vegas. Try not to get eaten alive."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, so, Vert has an identical twin brother. How Parent Trap is that? I know, it's a cheesy plot twist, but I promise it will make sense...possibly...at some point...maybe. Or..will it?! MUAHAHAHA! Sorry about that. I am bored. 


	7. Frankenstein

A/N: This chapter is based on an instrumental. That means it's a song with no lyrics. So, _technically,_ this is _still_ a musical chapter. There's just no singing. Teehee. Bow down before my Vulcan logic!

**SOUNDTRACK:** "Frankenstein" by The Edgar Winter Group.

* * *

Tork's and Vert's cars were left in Dino's parking lot to be guarded for the night, and they went with Nona and Mikki to a place in Little Moscow called Pietro's Diner. The place was owned by a Romany family who came from the Carpathian Mountains above Transylvania. The Girdas were a family of Romani, commonly called Gypsies, who had traveled through Eastern Europe for years, collecting all the best recipes, but they came to America with another family as soon as they got the chance. They were a loving and supportive family, but their son Vlad had never much been accepted by anyone, and so he became a Goth. Soon after, at least, he had found friends in Mikki and a few others who shared his dark outlook on life.

Vlad Girda worked the graveyard shift at Pietro's Diner, and though he sometimes had a sour attitude, his cakes and pies were the sweetest in Little Moscow and everyone knew it.

The raven-haired, green eyed young man looked up at the door when he heard the little bell that signaled customers. His black chef's coat was slightly stained with chocolate.

"Welcome to Pietro's," he said without any accent. "What can I get for you?"

Nona was about to order, but Mikki rushed past her. "A strawberry milkshake and two baklavas, don't skip on the whipped cream, he'll have the same," he said, pointing at Vert. Vlad raised his eyebrow at the other blonde, but he shrugged, and started on everyone's orders.

What a night, Nolo thought. At least now he could wind down with a little midnight snack before he went back to the hotel and to bed. But a strange feeling came over him, tingling at the back of his neck, as if someone were watching him.

"I am here, my friend," an accented voice said from a booth. "You are tired and uncertain, yes? You are unsure of what happens around you, and you feel you are by yourself. Well, do not feel alone, my friend, for your love waits for you in Hollywood; she has not made it yet, but with your support she will go far."

The hair on the back of Nolo's neck stood on end as he turned around; sitting there in a booth was a dark-skinned young man with grey eyes and his long, light brown hair pulled into a pony tail at the base of his neck. A silver pentacle hung from the chain around his neck. He rose and handed the boy a business card that read "Rhythm of Life; Spiritual Guidance and Curiosities for sale."

"Come by my shop tomorrow, my friend, and we shall see what the spirits have to say, yes?"

A chill ran down Nolo's spine, but the feeling passed when he heard Nona laughing.

"I see you've met Grigori," she said. "He runs a coven of Wiccans and owns the fortune telling shop around the corner."

"Hallo, Nona, my dark beauty. As always, it is wonderful to be in your divine presence." He bowed deeply, and she smiled.

"What are you doing here anyway, Grigori? Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Ah, yes, but I sensed a shift in the force and so I knew I must be alert to my surroundings," he said. "Also, I am wanting pie. This is best place for pie, so I come here."

Taking a quick look around, he saw the Maniacs and the new faces. "I see I was right about a shift in the force. You have returned, Tork! It is great to see you. Get well soon."

"Who does this number?" Angie whispered to seemingly no one, and then a hint of recognition: "Oh, the Edgar Winter Group. Thank you, I couldn't remember that one…"

Vlad rolled his eyes. "Take your meds, Angie."

Angie shrugged and popped a pill, and they had no trouble from him that night, even though it was now closer to morning.

There were more greetings and introductions, and they were enjoying the food for a while, and the evening was finally coming to an end. The unfortunate ordeals of earlier were nearly forgotten, and they got a chance to relax.

The diner had been empty when they arrived, save for Grigori and Vlad, but that was why the Foundlings came there after the shows every Friday night. It was their sanctuary, the intercom always tuned to a classic rock station. Jimmy ended up in a booth close to the counter, sitting with Tork and Nona.

"So, that little encore you gave," Tork started. "You said you were the resident leader of the Lost and Found. What happened to Demitri?"

Jimmy's smile faded slightly. "He's in the hospital. He left me in charge until he's out."

* * *

"So you ended up a skater and a racer, too?" Vert asked. "Guess great minds do think alike."

"Yeah, I never really had a lot of friends. All the Goths hated me because I skated, and all the Skaters hated me because I dressed like a Goth. It sucked, but there was this guy from the orphanage, another Russian kid, and a Goth, too. Demitri didn't skate, but he thought it was cool that I didn't take that kinda crap from anybody and did my own thing. So I started hanging out with him and this really tall Russian chick named Anya, and these Romani guys, Vlad and Grigori."

Mikki pointed his thumb towards the counter at the two Rom in question, but Vert was confused.

"Romani? Like, from Romania?"

"No. Well, these two are, but Romani is the proper term for—" and here he whispered—"Gypsy. But they hate it when you say the G-word."

Vert nodded. "Okay, okay. But then, how did you get with Nona, Jimmy and Angie?"

"Oh! OH!! Let me tell the story! I wanna tell it!"

Mikki sighed as all eyes were on him, and sank slightly into the cushion of the booth. "Angie, are you sure you took your meds?"

Angie nodded vigorously, clearing his throat. "Long ago—around about 1998, I'd say—young Mikhail Ilyich Kalishnikova was in a group of Goth kids, the oldest of who were just old enough to start driving. Mikki was only thirteen, so he got left out of a lot of things."

"Please skip that part!!" Mikki shouted, and Angie nearly fell out of his chair.

"Aww, hush, man! I'm trying to tell a story here!" Though this statement did not make much sense, Angie collected himself and continued. "Me and the Mik-meister here were problem children and ended up at Barstow Sands under protective custody. We were roommates."

Nolo, Vert and Lani exchanged nervous glances. Here, Angie gave an innocent smile and laughed.

"We helped each other out and stayed sane together, if you could call this sanity, and became close friends. Once we got out, we'd sit around on weekends and he'd write poetry while I played the bongos. I'd been let back a grade, so I was a year older than my new friends, Jimmy and Nona, but they wanted to start a band, and, well, like minded individuals coming together and all that. They really dug some of the poems for songs, so I brought Mikki over, and he ended up our writer and our roadie.

"By then, I was seventeen and they were sixteen, and Boots talked his dad into giving us a chance, so we started playing at Dino's every Friday night. Also by then, Mikki's Goth buddies had formed into a street racing team called the Lost Boys, after some 1980s vampire movie. The first time the Lost Boys came to see the Foundlings in concert, Vlad insulted my drumming. Now, I don't care what people say about my drumming, as long as I actually get to drum, but Nona got all defensive and was this close to cracking Vlad's skull open."

"Good times," Vlad murmured, snickering, and handed a stack of pancakes to Monkey; it was three in the morning, but he wanted breakfast.

"I thought she was gonna kill him, but the leader of the Lost Boys stepped in. Demitri Ostrog is one cool dude, I tell ya; he took full responsibility for what Vlad said and offered Nona to win back her honor in a race. She had this monster of a beat-up '78 Pontiac Trans Am, still does, and Demitri has this perfectly polished black and crimson '79 Mustang GTO. Everyone thought for sure that Nona would get creamed, but—"

"She beat me by three lengths!" boomed a voice from the doorway. There stood the man himself, Demitri Ostrog, crazy smirk dancing on the edge of his eyes. A bandage circled his bruised forehead, and his arm was in a cast, but he let on absolutely no sign of discomfort or weakness. Right behind him, his beautiful but freakishly tall girlfriend ducked under the top of the doorway. She wore a tight leather halter top and black jeans tucked into white boots, her short blonde hair framing her stony blue eyes and high cheek bones. Anistasia Onoprienko was the youngest of the Onoprienko sisters; the two bouncers at Dino's were her older siblings.

"None of us knew that she had had all this excellent coaching from her cousin from L.A." he continued. "Not just in technique, but mechanics! The Trans Am only looked crappy 'cos she hadn't gotten a new coat of paint just yet. I gave her everything I had, and this new kid off the streets kicks my ass. It was freakin' hilarious. So, on a whim, we started hanging out together. All eight, the whole group. We taught the Foundlings mechanics and driving technique, and eventually we just combined the names of the two groups. The Lost Boys became the Lost and Found, and that was how we all got here."

Tork laughed and he and Demitri shook hands. "Dude, what happened to you? You look like forty miles of bad road."

"Oh, so they told you," he said sarcastically with an artificially sweet smile. "A bunch of drunken hicks in a Dodge Ram ran me off the road when I took Czarina for a spin. My poor little Harley's in Hog Heaven now."

Porkchop looked at him with sympathy. "Some people just have no regard for the safety of motorcyclists. Dammit, bikers are people, too!"

"I know!" he said, indignantly. "It's ridiculous!"

Monkey, meanwhile, was hiding behind Lani and hoping she wouldn't notice the icy stare from Anya he was trying to avoid. He decided to try and ignore the Russian in hopes that she would leave him alone. "So, why'd you leave St. Jimmy in charge?"

Demitri opened his mouth to speak, pointing his good hand towards the ceiling, but he stopped and looked confused. "I left Jimmy in charge? Wow, I must've hit my head pretty bad. He's terrible at making decisions!"

"I'm right here, you know…"

He ignored Jimmy. "Anya's always been next in the chain of command. I'm so sorry, honey."

"Apology accepted," she aid nonchalantly, and finally took her eyes off of Monkey, but not before Lani caught them. She'd definitely have to have a talk with Monkey when they got back to the hotel.

"Vlad," he said in a tone Vert remembered the Major using with his underlings, "A BLT, comrade, and a hot fudge sundae. Your Czar commands you."

Vlad smiled, taking a deep breath and sighing. "Yes, Sir. Great to have you back, Sir," he said, and with that, Demitri took up his command post once more.

The group hung out for maybe an hour, just eating, talking, laughing, and telling funny stories. Vert and Mikki made plans to go to a local skate park on Sunday afternoon. Lani acted like everything was okay, despite her growing suspicion of Monkey. But, finally, Angie fell asleep in a booth as the sun began to rise, and they knew they had to sleep sometime, so goodbyes were said, and they headed for the Circus.

* * *

A/N: OMG! Beware of moshpits! I am still in pain, and it's been a week since the concert. Irish punks are crazy violent...


	8. Heartbreak Hotel

A/N: Here it is. Next one's on it's way, but I think I'll wait a good seven to ten days to be safe.

SOUNDTRACK: "Girl All The Bad Guys Want" by Bowling For Soup; "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance.

* * *

Mel rolled over with a happy sigh, and looked at the clock; it was almost ten. Markie had left just like she told him to so that they wouldn't be caught by her older brother. Now that morning had come, she had a little time to herself before she went to check out the carnival games he had originally suggested.

Mel hopped out of bed, showered, dressed, and put up her hair, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Yo, can I come in, Red?" It was Shirako; he was the only one who dared to call her Red. She let him in, and he flopped on the bed, leaving the door open.

"So," he said with a sly smile. "Kurt and I thought we heard some strange noises coming from across the hall when we got back from the pool last night…"

Mel blushed, turning her face away, and threw a pillow at the Teku. "You better keep your mouth shut about that, Shi-kun. You know what Monkey will do."

"I'm not so sure about that," he said in a sing-song voice. "A little after the sun started coming up, we also heard Lani shouting. I think that Funky Monkey might have some troubles of his own right about now…"

Mel's ear's twitched from curiosity at this. "Really, now? Could you hear what she was yelling about?"

Shirako still had that same old Mona Lisa smile he almost always wore. "I couldn't hear all of it, but there may just be another woman."

Mel was alarmed and was about to ask some more, but just then, Vert wandered in through the open door and flopped down on the unoccupied bed next to Mel's, spread eagle. "Hi, guys," he said, his voice dripping with melancholy.

Shirako rolled his eyes. "What are you being so emo about now, Blondie?"

"Screw off!" he shouted. "I just found out I might be adopted, okay?! My whole life has been a lie! SO! I think I have an excuse if I just so _happen_ to be miffed."

"O-keeey, then… So, what were you saying about there being another woman?"

"At least that's what Lani was saying; she might just be jealous. You know how people get. Kurt almost killed a guy who tried to pick up on me this one time."

"Hello?" Vert questioned. "No one wants to know about how my night went?"

"Not really," Mel and Shirako said together, and then laughed. Vert curled into a little ball on the other bed, and groaned. Shirako and Mel shared a look, and realized he was being serious.

"We were just kiddin', man," Shirako said, sitting on the bed next to him. "Okay, so what's up?"

Vert told them all about Mikki, how he grew up in an orphanage, how the two of them looked exactly alike, and Shirako snickered when he told them about Mikki being a Goth. He also told them about the concert, the moshpit, and about Jimmy's encore. How he could barely focus on them because he felt so confused and alone.

"But there was this one moment of…hope, I guess," he said, sitting up. "There was this girl, the lead singer slash bassist person…"

**Twelve o'clock, Friday night, I was sweatin'  
I got to talk to a girl so much cooler than me  
Her name is Nona, she's a rocker with a nose ring,  
She really wails, she's the best that I've ever seen**

**And when she walks,  
Oh, the wind blows and the angels sing.  
I hope she'll notice me!**

"Awwww," Shirako said. "That is positively beautiful, Vert! See, last night wasn't a total loss, eh?"

Vert looked at him inquisitively, which was funny, because he probably didn't know what the word meant. "Eh? What, are you Canadian now?"

Shirako threw a pillow at him, and they all shared a good laugh. Mel stopped snickering first. "Hey, listen, Vert, we're supposed to meet Kurt and Markie downstairs for breakfast, and then we were gonna hangout at Midway playing arcade games. Do you wanna come with us?"

Vert smiled, but shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I need to sleep in the worst way."

He headed out the door, followed by Shirako and Mel. Shirako couldn't hide the concern in his smile. "Alright, Blondie, we won't force you," he said. "But if you need anything at all, dude, just call me on my cell, okay?"

"Yeah. G'night. Morning. Whatever."

Vert watched the two head for the elevator, Shirako's gaze lingering on Vert's face, and then he went back to his room. It wasn't so bad, he supposed as he wandered; when he was younger, he had always wanted a brother. And as he drifted off to sleep, Vert couldn't help but think that some of the best things came in twos.

* * *

Karma turned over in the bed, moaning from the awful headache that gripped her throbbing skull. Where was she? This wasn't her room. This wasn't even the right hotel. It couldn't be; it was far too glamorous. Carefully, she sat up, but her hand brushed something in the bed next to her. Or rather, her hand brushed the skin of someone next to her. Unsure of what she should see, Karma took a deep breath and looked down. 

Taro Kitano slept peacefully next to her, completely nude, and she realized that she was, too. She pulled her hand way from him, afraid of waking him up, but gasped when she saw the large diamond ring on her fourth finger.

"No, no, no," she hissed, hurriedly getting out of bed to dress. "No. I am way too young, this cannot be happening. No."

Taro stirred and awoke just in time to see Karma grab her jacket to tiptoe towards the door. "Hey," he said. "What are you in such a hurry for?"

"I can't do this, Taro," she said, turning to face him. "I'm sorry. I just can't."

"Good morning to you, too," he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know what happened last night, but it couldn't have been too bad. Just give me a minute, and we can figure this out." Taro brought down his hand from his face, and his eyes widened at the sight of the ring. "Huh. How 'bout that."

"Taro, this was a mistake—"

"Okay, okay, I understand why you'd be freaked out," he told her. "But is this really so bad? I mean, Karma… This is really hard for me to say, but I've liked you for—"

"For what, a month?" she snapped. "We only were just getting to know each other, Taro! We might as well have just met. Oh, God, my mother's going to kill me."

"Karma—"

"No, okay?!" Karma punched the wall. "Taro…I'm so sorry. I can't handle this right now.

Taro glared at her, baring his teeth.

**Well, when you go don't ever think I'll make you try to stay  
And maybe when you get back I'll be off to find another way**

"I said I was sorry, Taro," she murmured. It was becoming very difficult to hold back the tears now, and she didn't want to cry in front of him; to cry would be the worst thing she could do, she thought, but she didn't know how close to tears he was himself. His whole life was just one rejection after another, and Taro really thought Karma was someone who understood him.

**And after all this time away from home  
I'm still the good-for-nothing Romeo  
So take your gloves and get out  
Better get out while you can**

He tossed a pair of purple driving gloves at her; she had left them on the night stand.

**But when you go, would you even turn to say  
"I don't love you  
Like I did  
Yesterday"**

A single tear rolled down her left cheek as she picked the gloves up off of the floor. With a careful tug, she pulled the ring off of her finger and placed it on the table next to the door. The door clicked into place as she left, and Taro thought it was an ugly and terribly lonely sound.

**I want to cry so hard from pleading, so tired of my heart taking such a beating  
But maybe when they knock me down and out is where I ought to stay**

**And even though I know the way things go  
I let her deal my heart a knockout blow  
So I'll fix my eyes and get up  
Better get up while I can**

**When you go would you even turn to say  
"I don't love you  
Like I did  
Yesterday"**

"Would you, Karma?" he whispered into the harsh daylight that beat its way through the windowpane. He got up and slowly got dressed, feeling totally alone. She left him, just like all the others.

**When you go, would you have the guts to say  
"I don't love you  
Like I loved you  
Yesterday"**

**You don't love me  
Like you loved me  
Yesterday**

**But I'll always love you  
Like I still love you  
Today**

Taro rummaged through the room for his he wanted to talk to somebody so bad, but he was so very embarrassed. No, he had to face the abandonment by himself, like the last time and the time before. Taking a last look around to make sure he had everything, Taro picked the ring up off of the table, put it in his pocket, and left the MGM Grand forever.

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure, but I think I made this song even more emo than it originally was… 


	9. DUDE!

A/N: I don't know if I remembered to explain this or not, but for every chapter I write, I post a link or two for the video for the songs used. The links are in my profile, so you can keep two windows open at once and listen to the songs while you read the chapter. Really, that's the whole point of this feature:

SOUNDTRACK: "Hey Jude" by The Beatles.

* * *

"You ready, Vert?" 

"As I'll ever be, Mikki."

Vert wished he was as confident as he sounded; it had been almost seven months since the last time he was on a skateboard, but now he and his alleged brother were at a skate park in a neighborhood where tourists feared to tread. Here he stood, in what he used to humorously refer to as 'full battle dress uniform,' and he was actually afraid. He was at the top of a halfpipe, one of his homes away from home besides the sea, and he was actually _afraid._

Mikki was getting pretty impatient; Vert had _told_ him it had been awhile, but he had never been one to let his fears control him. So, Mikki gave his alleged brother a push.

Vert let out a little yell as he sailed down the sloping wall, but he was pulling tricks before he even realized it. Just like riding a bike, only more extreme. Vert never really forgot; the motion was always in him.

Mikki laughed and joined him, and soon a crowd had formed to watch them. Who were these guys, they wondered. They moved so elegantly, but no one had ever seen them before, and except for the outfits, they looked just alike. About twenty minutes in the boys took a break, snagging a couple smoothies at the snack stand.

Mikki started telling Vert about how he came to Pairadice Park, but everyone always avoided him because of the way he dressed. "It doesn't bother me," he said. "It gives me more room to work it all out. It's pretty cool skating with you, though. You really thrash."

"Not so bad yourself, Mikki. We're a good team."

"Funny you should mention that, mate."

Both blondes jumped in surprise; they hadn't heard the haggard man with the Cockney accent and comically large eyebrows come up behind them. After they regained their balance, they glared at him for the intrusion and snapped simultaneously. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Stanley J. Slizowsky," he said, "and 'ave I got an offer for you!"

"This guy is creeping me out," Vert whispered.

"Look, let's just hear him out, okay? We can always run." Mikki cleared his throat. "What exactly are you talking about, Mr. Slizowsky?"

"Please, call me Stan." He grinned. "You two are a damn fine pair of skaters, you know that? I would be honored to 'ave you on the tour."

Vert furrowed his eyebrows, desperately trying to figure out Slizowsky's game. "What tour?"

"Why, Stan Slither's Twisted Tour, of course!" he said, and a flash of recognition came across their faces. "Oh, so _now_ you come around. I was in one of the earlier punk bands, the Steamer Trunks, and Stan Slither was my stage name. When my voice gave out, I settled down, but I couldn't stay away from the light of my fellow freaks, and so I created the Twisted Tour to showcase up-and-coming rock groups and extreme athletes!"

Vert and Mikki tried to hide their excitement as they glanced at each other, neither saying a word, and they let Stan Slither continue. "You two boys, it ain't just that you can skate real good," he said; "You got a built in gimmick. You're identical twins and you're skating styles are similar, but you dress like night and day. A Goth and a Surfer Bum! It's genius! Say, 'ow didja know I'd be 'ere checkin' for new talent, anyhow?"

"We didn't," Mikki said.

Vert blurted out, "Twisted fate?"

Stan Slither laughed, handing over a business card with BMX bikers popping wheelies around a pair of flaming guitars. "Oh, that's good. Look, I gotta get goin', so call me, promise? We'll do lunch! Ta!"

Vert and Mikki stared slack jawed as Stan climbed into his limo, and watched as their future blossomed before them like so many fields of orchids. After a moment of quiet contemplation, the two blondes could contain their excitement no longer, and turned to each other, uttering single cry:

"DUDE!!"

* * *

"Kid Rock?" 

"Kid Rock."

"No way!"

"Tork, if I'm lyin', I'm dyin'" Porkchop insisted. "I won this hat offa Kid Rock in a game of Texas Hold 'Em! We was playin' with David Duchovny and Leonard Nimoy, and Kid Rock lost all his chips. He thought he could win it back, and said that cuz of all the rhinestones and feathers, this hat was worth a grand. But I won that hand, so I got this pimped out cowboy hat that belonged to Kid Rock up until a few minutes ago."

"Dude, I was there!" Monkey said, nodding frantically. "Mr. Spock, Agent Molder and Kid Rock up against our Porkchop, and he cleaned 'em out!"

Tork let out a low whistle. "Well, that's one to tell the grandkids. Congratulations, man."

Monkey left the room for a minute, and ran into Wylde. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking nervous, and Monkey immediately thought something was up.

"What did you do to my sister, Wylde?" he snarled.

"Nothing," Wylde said innocently. He was cool and calm, not concerned at all. "What did you do to Lani?"

Monkey's eyes widened, and he said "Nothing!" in a rather higher pitch than he normally spoke. After a moment of shared eye contact, the two turned in opposite directions and left each other alone.

Wylde smirked as he entered the elevator, heading for the lobby; he had only come back up to grab his sunglasses, and was now going to find Mel downstairs.

"Hey Kitten," he said, smiling, and kissed her gently. "Ready to go?"

"Mmm, my Italian Stallion," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder just for a moment. Smiling, and with their arms around each other's waists, they went out the door to locate Demonizer in the parking lot.

With another sly smile, Wylde turned Mel around to face him, and kissed her again. She ran her fingers through his hair and held him close, but then she pushed him away. "Wait, there's someone there…"

He stopped, reluctantly, and heard a trunk door open just behind them. Wylde turned around and saw a dejected looking Taro Kitano shoving a suitcase into Night Prowler's trunk. He raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Taro, what's up?" he called.

Taro only looked up for just a moment, and then continued trying to get the over-packed piece of luggage to fit in the trunk. "I'm going back to L.A." he said. "There's nothing here for me."

"What are you talking about? In Vegas, there's something for everyone."

"Only pain and humiliation," he said with an icy glare at the trunk. This thing just would not cooperate! Finally, he sighed, and sat down on the suitcase with his head in his hands. Mel and Wylde sat down on either side of him with a worried glance.

"What's wrong, Taro?"

"Yeah, Taro, you can talk to us," Mel said soothingly, encouraging him with a hand on his shoulder. "The Metal Maniacs are a family. We're here for you."

Taro looked up at them, his eyes red from crying. "I got married Friday night," he started. "I was…surprised when I first woke up, but I was so very happy. I was with Karma. But she left. I love her, really, I do. I just don't know why she can't see that…"

Tears rolled down Taro's face, and Wylde was glad to see that no one else was around.

"Shh, Taro, it's okay, honey," Mel said, as he leaned on her shoulder, and she hugged him.

"I just don't understand," he squeaked between sobs.

Wylde slammed his fist on Taro's car, standing up. Taro looked up, shocked, and Mel glared. "Taro," he said. "This isn't you. It's been almost three years since I first met you, and you were so sure of yourself back then."

He turned around, taking off his sunglasses, and glared down at them, and then stopped and laughed. "I remember, Vert asked you if you really _had_ skied down Mt. Everest, and do you know what you said to him?" He scoffed and looked at Mel. "We were in the middle of a race and Vert asked over the comm link, and Taro said, 'Twice. I'm gonna pass you.' And then he did!

"You used to be so confident, you always had a hold on things, but now you don't know which way is up or down! You say you love Karma, right?" he said with another stern glare.

Taro was taken by surprise. "Well, yeah, but—"

"Then stop moping around, would'ja?" he yelled, but then his tone took on a sweet quality like a father talking to his son. "If you love her, then go to her. You're never gonna be with her if you just give up like this, man."

Taro looked at the ground, unsure of what to do. "You really think so, Wylde?"

"I know so."

"He's right, Taro," Mel said. "I hate to see you like this; as long as I've been with you guys, you've been the strongest. You're our rock, Taro. If there's anything you can't do, then there's just no hope for the world. I mean, c'mon—skiing down Mt. Everest? And you're afraid to go after Karma?"

"You're a great guy, Taro," Wylde agreed. "She doesn't know what she's missing. If you just give it another shot, I'm sure she'll come around."

"I just don't know…" Taro was so confused. He had never felt this way about anyone in his life; he wanted to be with Karma forever, but it just hurt so badly. He felt like he could just die from being alone. Wylde saw the pain written on his face, and smiled softly down at him. Wylde put his hands on his shoulders, and made Taro look up at him.

**Hey dude, don't make it bad  
Take a sad song and make it better  
Remember to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better**

Taro looked at the ground and sighed. He wanted to believe Wylde's words, but he was so uncertain. He hated to admit it, he never would have said so aloud…but Taro was afraid. He was afraid to lose Karma, and it was driving him crazy. But then Mel took his hand in both of hers and smiled.

_Hey dude, don't be afraid  
You were made to go out and get her  
The minute you let her under your skin  
Then you'll begin to make it better_**  
**  
Wylde sat back down, putting an arm around his friend, and he and Mel continued together.

_**And anytime you feel the pain, hey dude, refrain  
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders  
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
By making his world a little colder**_

**Hey dude, don't let me down  
You have found her, now go and get her  
Remember to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better**

_So let it out and let it in, hey dude, begin  
You're waiting for someone to perform with  
And don't you know that it's just you, hey dude, you'll do  
The movement you need is on your shoulders_

**Hey dude, don't make it bad  
Take a sad song and make it better  
Remember to let her under your skin  
Then you'll begin to make it better**

Better?

**Better**

Better?

_Better_

Better?

_**Yeah!**_

Taro looked up at them; he felt lucky to have friend who cared so much, even if he wasn't sure if he could do what they asked.

"Don't give up, man," Wylde with a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're better than this."

"You…you really think she'll listen?"

Mel nodded. "Karma's just scared, but I know that you love her, Taro. If you can only show her that, things will work out for the best."

He nodded, smiling weakly. "Alright. I'll talk to her. Just…not yet."

Taro pulled his suitcase out of the trunk, slamming it closed with one hand, and turned towards the hotel entrance.

"Thank you," he said, and started walking. Mel and Wylde smiled at each other and went to Demonizer.

He had overreacted, that was all. He was upset and he overreacted. Taro was sure he would've regained his senses and come back to find Karma eventually, but he was also very glad Mel and Wylde had been there to talk to him. Sometimes, it's nice to hear that people believe in you. He wanted to talk to Karma, but he couldn't. Not just yet. He needed some time to think first, but Taro was confident that he could do it.

Feeling at ease, Taro Kitano slipped back up to his room and replaced his belongings with the knowledge that things were going to be okay.

* * *

A/N: Amazing what one little letter can do...I was planning on updating this last Tuesday, but I was sick, so I just went straight home after work. I ended up skipping work until Monday! I'm bettter enough to be back at the library now, though, so I'll try and work on the next chapter some more. 


	10. Take Love As It comes

A/N: The whole thing with Kurt and Shirako was completely improvised last minute, so sorry if it seems forced. But I heard My Sharona on the radio, and I was like, "Dude! Sharona kinda sounds like Shirako!" So here it is.

SOUNDTRACK: "My Sharona" by The Knack; "Get It While You Can" by Janis Joplin.

* * *

Kurt waved goodbye to Nolo and Tork as they headed towards the casino downstairs. Finally. Really, what had taken them so long? And now, the eldest Teku smiled to himself a shark's predatory smile, and went back to his room. He knew what was waiting for him there. 

Shirako was an easygoing young man, and at some times, he could be rather lazy. This was one of those times. For the half-week that he and his friends had been in Las Vegas so far, Shirako had had something to do every day, but today his plans were to do nothing. Almost absolutely nothing, except for maybe to eat, sleep, and breathe. Yes, today was a lounging day, as far as he was concerned, and the young Jap didn't even bother to get dressed. As his boyfriend Kurt walked through the door and closed it behind him, Shirako was lying on his stomach in his boxer shorts and reading a Steven King novel.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Kurt sat down next to his beau and his predatory smile softened. He put an arm around Shirako and bent down to kiss him, but the younger man pulled away.

"Not now," he murmured. "This is interesting."

"Aww, c'mon…" Kurt ran a hand along Shirako's back and tried again. They had been together for so long now, but the while at Tezla's and then the hotel, they hadn't had a lot of solitude. They were constantly being driven apart by other people, and Kurt was getting frustrated, but today, they had no plans, and they were all alone together.

This time, Shirako let Kurt kiss him, but he pulled away after a moment.

"Kurt, my novel…"

"You can read it later."

Shirako pushed him away again, but he was smiling. "Cut it out, Kurt. Someone'll hear us!"

"So what if they do?" Kurt asked, pouting. He could tell Shirako was playing with him. "Why are you being so coy anyway? Stop playing hard-to-get, Shi-kun..."

He traced patterns on Shirako's shoulder with his fingertips, grinning with hungry eyes, but Shirako shrugged him off. Kurt huffed, lying on his back and staring right at his lover's face with those big blue eyes of his, and pouted.

**Ooh my little pretty one, pretty one  
When you gonna give me some time, Shirako?  
Ooh you make my motor run, my motor run  
Gun it comin' off the line Shirako  
Never gonna stop, give it up**

_Such a dirty mind!_

**I always get it up for the touch of the younger kind  
Mine, mine, mine, all mine. Ohhh, my Shirako...**

Kurt held his body close to the younger Teku's, and Shirako slid his copy of "The Dark Half" off of the bed.

* * *

Karma forced an innocent smile as she cautiously approached Melissa's room. The Metal Maniacs used the place as a lounge, and she…well, she wasn't really sure whether she wanted Taro to be there or not, but she thought that might be the place to find him. Karma knew she had to explain herself sooner or later, that Taro deserved to know why she had run out so suddenly— 

But did it have to be so soon?

Karma abruptly pulled back her hand before she could knock, and she turned to leave, but Porkchop walked right up with a grim look and a bucket of ice. "Hey, Teku," he said coldly, opening the door. "The boys were just talking about Friday night."

"Were they?" she asked. Had Taro talked? What did he say? Karma suddenly found herself very flustered; this was something extremely personal, and if he blabbed to his Maniac buddies, she would strangle him.

"Yeah, they were," he said, and ushered her into the room. "Get in. You owe Tork an apology."

Tork? Why should she apologize to—?

_(("You'll never be as good as Tone was!!" she screamed, swinging the half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo at him. "You don't control me!!"_

_Nolo ducked just in time to avoid getting a liquor bottle smashed in his face, but Tork had been momentarily distracted by the band and was not quite so lucky. The glass shattered over his forehead as his knees buckled, and Tork fell to the floor in a heap. The tall, muscular blonde girls Nolo had spotted earlier leapt from their table and entered the fray—))_

"Oh crap…" The fight, the drinking, it was all coming back to her now, even the hasty wedding ceremony in a little white chapel near the MGM Grand. It had performed by one of the Elvis impersonators they followed, and she remembered how happy she felt, and she wanted to cry.

No. Not in front of them. Still, Karma was glad that Taro wasn't there, or else she might have gone over the edge. She began to compose herself as she glanced around the room, but her eyes stopped on the bruising on Tork's forehead. She gasped.

"What have I done?" she whispered to herself, placing a hand over her mouth. Karma turned away from the mean looks she was getting from Tork, Porkchop and Monkey, and let out a shuddering breath. "I-I'm sorry, Tork. I'm so sorry..."

"Well, you should be," he said sharply, but he immediately regretted it. Karma's shoulders were shaking, and they could hear her softly sobbing, no matter how hard she tried to control herself. What happened to the Ice Queen, cool, calm, collected Karma Eiss?

"I'm sorry!" she screamed, and ran from the room in tears.

* * *

Karma slammed the door of her own room shut, hoping that no one would come to check on her. She couldn't face people right now, the terrible things she had done; it was all too much. She locked the door, hook and chain, and closed the curtains, letting it all come out. The pain, anger, confusion, and regret. She didn't want to cry, but she needed to. 

Why did she drive him away? She liked Taro, but it was just so soon. "No" she whispered into the darkness. "You don't just like him, you love him. The sooner you admit that, the easier it will be to sort out this whole mess. Control yourself, Karmita."

For a moment, it seemed as if she was done in her solitude, but that _nickname._ Why had she used that nickname, _God._ Tone was the only one who ever called her Karmita, since they were little kids. And then she remembered.

"Antonio!" she sobbed. Karma had loved Tone Pasaro with all her heart, and it nearly destroyed her when he died. They were planning to get married that fateful summer; the very night Tone was killed, they were going to tell Nolo about it, ask him to be the best man… They were going to use his sure victory as a platform to break the news to the Teku that they were out of the game, settling down to start a family. But then…

Karma thought she heard a strange fluttering sound from somewhere in the room. Jumping to her feet, she picked up the desk lamp and planned to use it as a club. "Who's there?" she demanded in an icy voice. "What do you want?"

There was that fluttering noise again, and a bright white light and Karma dropped the lamp in shock and grief. A familiar face smiled down on her just like before, and she sobbed.

"Shh, shh, stop that now, Karmita," he whispered soothingly, taking her in his arms and enfolding them both in his wings. "It's okay. Things are as they should be."

"But, how, Tone?" she asked. But then Karma snuggled into his arms, feeling warm and safe, and forgot what she was so concerned about. He sat down on the edge of the bed, bringing her with him. It was all so confusing.

"How?" she repeated, and Tone smiled at her. On the border of her mind, Karma thought she could hear a soft whisper, a friendly warning. _"It's too quiet,"_ the voice said._ "Things are going too easy. They know we're here; we're being strung along. Something's very wrong here. We're in danger."_

"That warning I gave you, along with getting Nolo to fix that whole mess he made with Tork," Tone said, "Was enough to earn me my wings."

Karma looked into his eyes, confused. She didn't know what to say; it was all just too much.

"If you don't know what to say, then don't say anything, M'ija" he said, reading her thoughts. "I know you've had a rough time, Karma, and that's exactly why I am here. The Teku were my family, and now I watch over all of you. I steer you down the right path whenever I can."

"Oh, Tone," she murmured, lightly rubbing her cheek against the soft feathers of his wing. He was so warm. "I've missed you so much. I love you and I always will."

"But you love Taro too, don't you?" he whispered softly. "You feel guilty because you love him, but you still love me."

She didn't answer him, and he didn't look at her face, but Tone could feel tears rolling onto the surface of his wing, dampening his feathers. "There is absolutely no reason you should feel that way, Karma," he told her. "You deserve to be loved. I can't be there for you like I used to, but Taro is a good guy. He would never hurt you. I still love you, too, Karmita, and I want you to be happy…

_**In this world, if you read the papers, darling  
You know everybody's fighting with each other  
You got no one you can count on, baby  
Not even your own brother  
So if someone comes along  
Who wants to give you some love and affection  
I say get it while you can, yeah  
Honey, get it while you can  
Hey, hey, get it while you can  
Don't you turn your back on love, no, no**_

_**Don't you know when you're loving anybody, baby  
You're taking a gamble on a little sorrow  
But then who cares, baby  
'cause we may not be here tomorrow, no  
And if anybody should come along  
Who wants to give you any love and affection  
I'd say get it while you can, yeah!  
Hey, hey, get it while you can  
Hey, hey, get it while you can  
Don't you turn your back on love  
No no no, no no no no no**_

_**Oh, get it while you can  
Honey get it when you're gonna wanna need it dear, yeah yeah  
Hey hey, get it while you can  
Don't you turn your back on love  
No no no, no no no no, get it while you can  
I said hold on to somebody when you get a little lonely, dear  
Hey hey, hold on to that man's heart  
Yeah, get it, want it, hold it, need it  
Get it, want it, need it, hold it  
Get it while you can, yeah  
Honey get it while you can, baby, yeah  
Hey hey, get it while you can!**_

Karma looked up into her former lover's eyes, so grateful for what comfort he had given her. "Thank you so much, Tone," she said. "I still love you, you know."

"I know Karmita," he said, stroking her hair and holding her close. Tone kissed Karma's forehead gently, looking into her eyes again. "And I'll always love you, too, but you have to let go of the past. I have to leave now, but I'll be in your heart."

Karma nodded, wiping one last ear fom her eye with a smile on her face, and she finally let him go. Tone spread his glorious wings and went right out the window and into the shining sun.

Vert was both excited and anxious as Mikki pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel, but he winced as a shadow passed over them. He looked up and for a moment because he thought he saw something passing by in the light, but there was too much glare to tell what it was despite the sound of flapping wings that made a chill run down his spine.

"What's up?" Mikki asked him, but Vert just shook his head.

"Nah, it's nothing," he answered. "Hey, I was thinking, maybe we shouldn't tell anyone about Slither just yet, Mikki."

"Yeah, I don't want to get their hopes up either. Sorry we couldn't stay at the park longer."

Vert smiled. "It's cool, Mikki. I'll see ya 'round, okay?"

"Yeah, see ya."

* * *

A/N: How was that? This Janis Joplin number was one of the original songs I put on my possibilities list when I was first thinking about the musical. It was sometime in February, I think, and I wasn't even finished with Sweet Melissa just yet, and I had this whole huge list of songs I liked and so many just didn't make the cut because the scene ideas sucked. This one's kinda convoluted, I admit, but I like it. Very emotional, plus I got to squeeze in a supernatural occurance with Tones' Angelic appearance! I must say, I am quite pleased with myself. 


	11. Kokomo

A/N: E_verybody knoooooows, a little place like Kokomooooooh, and if you wanna goooo to get away from it aaaaaaall..._ I'll drag you to Las Vegas.

SOUNDTRACK: "Kokomo" by The Beach boys.

* * *

And so, time passed, and it was eventually Wednesday afternoon, and Vert was planning to head back to the Pairadice Sk8 Park where he and Mikki met a strange man the previous fateful Sunday. And to think, he almost hadn't brought his deck and gear with him. What a lucky break in such a crazy world, and honestly, what were the chances? Vert grabbed his helmet, already wearing his knee and elbow pads, leaving his room, and ran right into a broadly grinning Nolo.

"Oh my God, Blondie, Vegas has been kind to me!" he said, waving a fist full of hundred dollar bills. The leader of the Teku laughed, hugging him.

"Dude, get off," Vert said, laughing. "You smell like you've been drinking."

"Just a couple beers, and I stopped as soon as I started winning. I'll see ya later, Gringo. I got to put this somewhere safe."

"Whatever!" Vert called, stepping into the elevator. He was happy for Nolo, but where did that dude get off calling him a Gringo? Vert shook his head and hit the button for the lobby.

* * *

Mikki slid his black Mustang Shelby SS into a space in the lot at Pairadice Sk8 Park, his home away from the garage on Thursdays and weekends. After high school, Demitri and Anya had scrimped and saved to buy the run down old place from an elderly woman, and reopen it as Ostrog & Co. The newly renovated building served both as a base of operations for Lost And Found and as a commercial garage taking in cars and choppers from the general public. Somehow, they managed to turn a profit, and since Demitri and Anya went to high school with some of the biggest motor heads in town, finding loyal employees was easy. In fact, both Mikki and Angie had been working at Meltdown's since sophomore year, and it was still their main source of income. Mikki had rebuilt his first car from scraps and spare parts at Ostrog & Co., and named it Dosvidanya, the Russian word for Goodbye.

But still, after all of this, after all of the hours under hoods and behind stages, Mikki's first love was skateboarding. What Slither had offered them was a dream come true for him, one of many dreams thought unachievable by the young orphan. Mikki never thought he'd have a family, never thought he could make a living doing what he loved, and now…

A white Dodge Ram with an ocean-scape airbrushed on the sides in baby blue pulled up next to Dosvidanya as a stark contrast. They really weren't very much alike, Mikki thought as he watched Vert step out of the driver's side door.

The weirdest part was that they had chosen remarkably similar clothing. Both boys were wearing cargo shorts and wife beater tank tops, but not the same colors, of course; Vert was in olive drab and white, while Mikki was all in black.

"Freaky twin ESP" they both said at once, exchanging looks of bewilderment. Finally, the boys could keep straight faces no longer, and turned in the direction of the ramps and rails, snickering.

Vert and Mikki spent a good three hours just tooling around, perfecting moves they didn't even know they had. Perhaps they truly were meant to skate for the world. Vert could feel in his bones that they were both destined for greatness, and Mikki knew too. He just wasn't sure he could do it. He knew he could _physically,_ but something held him back. The sweaty pair took a seat on the same bench across from the snack stand where they met Stan Slither.

"You okay, Mikki?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Vert looked at him blankly, staring for several moments. He slurped his mango smoothie, narrowing his eyes. "You sure, man? You seem troubled."

"Well, like, what if Slither does pick us? I've been to Twisted Tour dates, Vert. They get way crazy. I don't know if I could handle it."

"You could so totally handle it!" Vert said. "You'll probably handle it better than I do, and I love that kind of attention! Mikki, what's going on?"

"It's not that I can't handle the attention or the crowd," Mikki said with a sigh. "I don't know if I can leave this town."

"Dude, it's Vegas," Vert snorted. "If you don't leave sooner or later it'll devour you. You told me yourself you hate this place with a passion."

"I don't have a lot of friends, Vert, and they're all here. And I can't just leave Angie just because _you _came along."

Vert snorted again. "What, are you guys gay or something?"

"Stop being an ass!!" Mikki screamed, slapping the back of Vert's head. Glowering, the Goth lit a cigarette, a habit his friends had encouraged him to shake. The smoke he blew from his nostrils smelled to Vert something spicy and sickly sweet, almost like burning cinnamon rolls. Mikki didn't smoke common tobacco cigarettes, but allspice and cloves. Vert coughed from the smoke nonetheless, and made a mental note to get his brother to quit; they had just met, and the last thing he needed was for Mikki to get cancer.

"Look, I know you two got really close in juvie, but—"

"Who said anything about juvie?" he said, blowing more smoke out through his nose.

"Angie did," Vert answered. "That night at the diner, he said you were roommates at Barstow Sands."

Mikki did a double-take, choking on the smoke, and he stared at Vert as if he had just said the dumbest thing in the history of mankind. After a moment, his coughing turned to hysterical laughter, and he shook his head, rubbing the tears from his eyes. Vert glared at him, for he didn't get the joke.

"What's so funny, Mik?"

Mikki finally calmed down, still shaking his head, and gave the identical blonde a sad smile. "Dude, Barstow Sands is a mental institution."

Vert's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and Mikki ground out his cigarette on the arm of the bench before flicking it away.

"But he said you were in protective custody. I thought you were in trouble."

"We were," he said sadly, "but not in the way you think. Vert, I—"

Mikki's eyes softened, and he looked away. It still hurt so much…

"I tried to kill myself when I was thirteen," he admitted breathlessly. "I slashed both of my wrists wide open and almost bled out. When I was finally well enough to travel, they had me transferred to Barstow Sands Youth Psychiatric Health Center."

Vert's eyes were as wide as saucers, the boy himself unable to comprehend what he was hearing. All of those years apart, and they almost hadn't found each other for what one had gone through…he couldn't imagine the pain, or what was going through Mikki's mind, and didn't want to. Vert was scared because the two of them were so different, and he couldn't look his brother in the eye. This was terribly ironic because Mikki was having the same problem.

"It was a long time ago," he tried to assure Vert, but he almost didn't believe it himself when he said "I'm better now."

Vert spoke just to keep from having to think about what his brother had just told him. "Was Angie there for…for the same reason?"

"Angie? Oh, _hell_ no!" he answered more cheerfully, and Vert was glad for the less morbid tone of voice, though he was unprepared for what he heard next. "No, Angie was a happy child. He just liked to set fires, that's all."

"…Set fires?"

"Yeah, he burned down a bunch of abandoned buildings," Mikki said nonchalantly, as if he were talking about an innocent childhood prank. "I mean, no one got hurt, and it wasn't even really his fault."

"He torched a bunch of houses!" Vert said incredulously. "How is that _not_ his fault?!"

Mikki glared at him, the usual cold steel of his gaze returning. "He hears voices, Vert," he said through grinding teeth. "After they caught Angie, he was diagnosed with Advanced Delusional Schizophrenia. He can't help what he does. That's why he needs me."

Mikki sighed, and Vert put a hand on his shoulder; this guy had told him so many awful things in a few short minutes that it had to have been some sort of record. And, still, he could not get over the strange feeling of seeing someone so much like him and so very different.

"I can't just abandon him, Vert," he said. "I know what it feels like to be left behind. I just couldn't do that to him."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Mikki, because it's not like," Vert said, stopping in the middle of his sentence. The spike-haired blonde stared at his double and a smile erupted on his face. "Like the Twisted Tour is looking for any new bands! Genius! Pure Genius!"

"Duh!" Mikki said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Why didn't I think of that? Of course! Stan said up-and-coming extreme athletes _and_ rock musicians!!"

Vert nodded frantically, the crazy grin lighting his eyes and giving them the effect of an ocean in flames. Mikki's hardened steel gaze sparkled, dancing along with his. "We can go on tour—"

"And I won't have to abandon Angie—"

"And I can still date Nona!"

Mikki closed his mouth and eyed Vert skeptically, leaning back to assess the boy. Finally, he shook his head, tucking his hair behind his ear, and chuckled. "Whatever, bro. So here's the plan…"

* * *

**Off the Florida keys  
There's a place called Kokomo  
That's where you wanna go to get away from it all**

Jack turned up the volume and grabbed a beer from the fridge; he _really_ needed a vacation.

**Bodies in the sand  
Tropical drink melting in your hand  
Well be falling in love  
To the rhythm of a steel drum band  
Down in Kokomo  
**

Major Jack Wheeler was happy to finally return to his suburban home on the fringes of Orange County. What a crazy month he had been through! Between Vert discovering the truth about what he really did for the government, being held hostage, and the lengthy interrogations about what he went through, Jack was bushed. Really, he was just glad to be back at his own house, lying on his own couch, with his perfectly healed, good as new shoulder, enjoying a nice Labatt Blue and some Beach Boys on the stereo. He loosened his tie, pulling it off over his head and tossing it to a chair.

**Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take ya  
Bermuda, Bahama, come on, pretty mama  
Key Largo, Montego, baby, why don't we go  
Down to Kokomo  
We'll get there fast and then well take it slow  
That's where we wanna go  
Way down to Kokomo**

Jack crooned softly along with The Beach Boys, stretching out on the sofa and giving a contented sigh. "Home" he murmured with a smile. He gazed slowly around the room, taking it all in, and realized the red light on his answering machine was blinking. Jack raised an eyebrow and put down his beer.

_BEEEEEEEP "Hey, asshole, thanks for telling me I was adopted! You'd really think that kind of thing would come up, ya know?! Don't bother trying to call me. I'm using a payphone."_

Jack stared at his answering machine, terribly confused, and was eventually able to gather his thoughts enough to utter a single word:

"Crap."

He sat there a few minutes, just contemplating the message. He sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and picked up the phone.

"Jeff? Yeah, it's Jack," he said. "I need you to trace a call to my house line. Saturday August eleventh at oh-three hundred hours."

The Major took a sip of his beer, but almost immediately spat it back out from shock.

"Whadda ya _MEAN_ he'sin Vegas?!?" he shouted into the phone and slammed it down on the coffee table.

Well…he _had_ wanted to take a vacation…


	12. Darkly Dancing

A/N: As an apology for taking so long, this chapter is extra long, at over three thousand words. I hope that makes up for it, people, and I know I never say it, but you guys really mean a lot to me.

SOUNDTRACK: "Tango: Maureen;" from the musical RENT by Jonathan Larson. "Dance Dance;" by Fall Out Boy.

* * *

"Lani, nothing happened, I swear!!"

"Oh, please," she sneered. "I saw the way she looked at you. She was angry that you were with _me._ She was _jealous._ Something happened between you and that giant blonde and I want to know _what."_

"Nothing!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely nothing romantic, spiritual or physically enjoyable! I made fun of her Goth make up and she threw me across the room like a rag doll! That was it!"

Lani only glared at him with a blank face and one hand on her hip and her nose turned up. She looked down on him, narrowed her eyes. "Really, now?" she said. Did he really expect her to believe that?

Monkey glared right back. "I don't understand why you're making such a big deal over this," he said. "I never once asked about you Taro."

Lani gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Her fists balled at her sides. "Oh, you," she rasped. "Get out!!"

"But this is my room too, Lani, I—"

"Get _out,_ Monkey!"

"Lani, please, I'm sorry, just—"

"Out! OUT! OUT!!" she shrieked, pointing towards the door. She threw his call phone at him as she shooed him away. "And don't come back!!"

"Okay, that was a really dumb thing for me to say, and I'm sorry" he pleaded. "Lani, please, you know I love you and only you—"

Lani slammed the door in his face, locking it behind him, and Monkey sighed. He could hear her crying, all alone in the suite. Would she call hotel security? Would someone else? And more importantly, would she calm down tonight and let him back in, or was he going to have to bunk with one of the others?

Where most men would have stormed off in a huff, Monkey was reluctant to leave the floor. What if Lani needed him? And if her anger subsided and he was still right there, he'd get points for loyalty at least. Tork was having dinner at his aunt's house, so his room was empty, but he didn't have the key; likewise for Porkchop, who was down in the casino, and Wylde, who was in the arcade with Mel. Of course, Monkey could have just busted in, but then he'd have to pay to replace the doors.

Monkey stole a curious glance at Taro's door; he'd been nothing short of a total killjoy since the previous Friday, just moping about, and if he saw his fellow Metal Maniacs, all he did was apologize for his actions. What was more he was Lani's ex-boyfriend. Monkey had never asked Lani what happened between them, and he kept telling himself that he didn't want to know. But there it was; he and Taro weren't especially close, but Metal Maniacs were welded. If he asked, Monkey knew Taro would tell him the truth.

But did he _really_ want to know?

Monkey knocked on his and Lani's door; he could still hear her crying inside. "Lani, please, I'm sorry," he said. "Let me back in."

"Go away!"

Monkey made one last attempt, calling their room number, and then Lani's cell, but she wouldn't answer. She wasn't going to let him back in any time soon. He had to do something until she calmed down, and if he stayed close by he could get to her quicker if she needed him. It was by this reasoning that Monkey convinced himself to knock on Taro's door.

"Yes?" he asked somberly as he opened the door. As long as Monkey had known Taro, he had been a man of few words, and tonight seemed to be no exception.

"Hey, Taro," Monkey said with a little wave. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I, um, can I come in?"

Taro stepped aside without a word and with one raised eyebrow, closing the door behind the mechanic as he entered. There was an awkward quiet between them as they took their seats. The only sounds were the breeze blowing through the window and an old rerun of Seinfeld on TV.

"What's up?" he asked. When Monkey hesitated to answer, Taro smirked and snagged two Cokes from the mini fridge. "I heard shouting. Everything okay?"

Monkey nodded thanks and attempted to open the can, but the ring broke clean off. Taro snickered as Monkey extended a single claw, punched a hole in the top and took a sip.

"There was this girl," Monkey finally admitted after another uncomfortable silence. When he caught Taro's scolding look, he raised his hands in defense. "Nothing happened! She was just glaring at me like she wanted to kill me and Lani thinks she's my ex!" He paused, sighed. "She kicked me out…"

Taro nodded, understanding; it was a familiar dance to him, and the slightly older Maniac knew it was his duty to offer what guidance he could. "She was always very jealous," he said.

"Is that why you broke up?"

He shook his head, looking away. "She said I was hard to talk to."

"But you're such a good listener."

Taro smiled at the compliment. "Not when I drink. Why was the girl angry?"

Monkey sighed, running a hand through his short red hair. "I met Anya when I came to Las Vegas with Tork and Porkchop two summers ago," he said. "Back then, I was still really paranoid about people knowing I was a…a mutant, so I was still acting like a nervous little weasel, always cowering, always saying the wrong thing."

"Why?"

"No one ever suspected that Clark Kent was Superman," he said with a shrug, and left it at that. "I sensed there was more to her than there appeared and figured it would cement my loser status to get beat up by a girl, so I said, 'Hey, Wednesday, you know Halloween is still three months away, right?' When she stood up, she was almost seven feet tall. Even with this metal on my bones, she tossed me clear across the room!"

Taro shook his head, a genuine grin on his face. The depths Monkey would sink to in order to appear normal truly amazed him. "So, she was still angry, and Lani thought she was jealous, and that made _Lani_ jealous."

"Exactly!! But why?" he cried. "I love her, Taro, but it's just so frustrating!"

Taro raised one eyebrow.

**Feel like going insane?  
Got a fire in your brain?  
And you're thinking of drinking Nitrox 3?**

_As a matter of fact—_

**Monkey, I know this act  
It's called the 'Tango Lani'  
The Tango Lani!  
It's a dark dizzy Merry-Go-Round  
As she keeps you dangling**

_You're wrong!_

**Your heart she is mangling**

_It's different with me!_

**And you toss and you turn  
'Cause her cold eyes can burn  
Yet you yearn and you churn and rebound  
**

_I think I know what you mean…_

_**The Tango Lani**_

"I'm sorry, Monkey, but it had to be said," Taro told the Maniac mechanic. "As your friend, I had to warn you. This could the beginning of the end."

Monkey nodded dejectedly, his face in his hands. "This is really it for us, isn't it Taro?" he asked weakly. "God, she won't even return my calls…"

"Of course, you could be overreacting completely," Taro said abruptly. Idiot! He had set out to help Monkey, to make things easier on him, but all he was doing was making him worry! "It's only been an hour. She'll probably call you back later tonight."

"Yeah, I guess," Monkey sighed. Just then, his cell phone rang and he scrambled to answer it, fumbling and almost dropping it in a very Cramer-esque way. Finally, Monkey managed to get a firm grip on the piece of technology and timidly answered the call. "Hello?"

There was a deep sigh on the other end, a few sniffles, and finally, a beautiful female voice in clear distress. "Monkey", she said, "We need to talk."

Monkey cringed, resisting the urge to whimper; he could actually hear her capitalize the words. Those four little words were like a death sentence to any relationship. If Lani thought 'They Needed To talk', it was over. She was going to dump him. His heart sinking, Monkey quietly agreed to came back to the room. Taro put a hand on his shoulder and smiled, hoping things would be alright, and knowing they probably would not.

"Go get her."

Monkey nodded without a word and left.

* * *

Mel widened her eyes in abject horror. It was much like watching a train wreck; she wanted to look away, but she found that she could not. It was just too…ugggh.

"Jeez, Shirako," she said, cringing. "Where do you put it all?"

Shirako took another shark sized bite out of his candy apple, munching happily. Indeed, he had already eaten two, along with nachos, a corndog, a slice of pizza, and several blooming onions. Mel had never thought that someone so little could possibly eat such a great amount so fast.

"I have a crazy high metabolism," he said. "It's like I can eat and eat and eat and never gain an ounce."

"How nice for you," Mel said. She was trying desperately to resist a sudden urge to punch Shirako in the face, as were several other women within earshot of the youngest Teku. Shirako was pleasantly oblivious to the negative attention he was receiving, however, and savagely finished off the carnival treat.

"Yeah, I thinks it's because I DDR so much," he said. "It's the perfect work out for me; cardiovascular exercise AND a video game!!"

Mel rolled her eyes, but Wylde raised an eyebrow. "What's DDR? It sounds familiar, but I don't know what it is."

"It's a videogame," Kurt answered, putting down his Dr. Pepper for a moment. "They have an overlarge keypad on the platform in front of the monitor showing which steps to hit. It's basically a dance contest, which means Shi-kun is the champ."

Wylde shook his head. "I don't get it."

"It's like Guitar Hero, but you use your feet," Kurt explained. Wylde nodded in understanding at this; the Metal Maniacs had Guitar Hero for their PS2.

"It's like crack for my feet," Shirako chirped pleasantly, sneaking some curly fries from Mel's plate. He was so incredibly stealthy that even the young feral mutant could not stop him and only realized she had been wronged when she saw him chewing.

"Hey! Hands off, Teku!" she snapped, punching his arm; she meant for it to be playful, but Mel barely knew her own strength. Shirako fell out of the side of the booth onto the floor, staring up at the redhead in shock, and finally anger.

Shirako's almond eyes narrowed as Kurt and Wylde exchanged a nervous glance. He rubbed his shoulder and slowly got to his feet, glaring at Mel. He muttered something in Japanese, crossing his arms, and then repeated himself in English.

"You have dishonored me," he said in a low voice. "There is only one way to settle this, you Metal Maniac. I challenge you."

"Hey, Einstein, Mel doesn't have her license yet," Wylde said, but his insulting reality check fell on deaf ears, and Kurt put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"Markie, I don't think we should get in the middle of this," he cautioned.

"DANSU!!" Shirako cried out, grabbing Mel by her wrist. The petite Jap dragged her towards a bank of machines in the back of the arcade. The Wylde brothers looked at each other—one worried, the other just confused—and followed their better halves into the void.

The techno remix of a familiar song blared over the speakers as their feet flew from space to space, lights flashing and missteps taken. Mel was attempting to beat Shirako at his own game, a game practically created for him. The two significant others of the Wylde brothers were engaged in a popular arcade game called Dance Dance Revolution, better known as DDR.

**She says she's no good  
with words but I'm worse  
Barely stuttered out "A joke of a romantic"  
Got stuck to my tongue  
Weighed down with words too over-dramatic  
Tonight it's: "It can't get much worse."  
Vs. "No one should ever feel like..."**

The beat picked up and the furious footwork truly began. Each multi-colored arrow scrolled up the screen, and scores rose as their feet flew to match the steps.

Mel considered Shirako to be her friend, but all the same, she knew she'd never live it down if she lost to the Teku. Her curly hair bounced along as she moved, and the young McClurg's eyes flashed that unmistakable orange. She looked at the very bottom of the screen and carefully timed her movement, but she still missed a few steps here and there; Shirako had set it to the highest level. Mel was using her powers, and she was still losing. Only just barely, but still losing.

**I'm two quarters and a heart down  
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds  
These words are all I have so I'll write them  
So you need them just to get by**

**Dance, Dance  
We're falling apart to half time  
Dance, Dance  
And these are the lives you'd love to lead  
Dance, this is the way they'd love  
If they knew how  
Misery loved me**

Whereas Mel used her eyes, Shirako used his whole body when he played DDR. He watched, and he listened, depending equally on his senses, but most important of all was what he felt. The creators of Dance Dance Revolution programmed the steps to move with the music using specialized choreographers. Shirako let the music move him; he didn't have to force it. He was, as Kurt had said, the champ.

**You always fold just before you're found out  
Drink up, it's last call, last resort  
But only the first mistake and I...**

**I'm two quarters and a heart down  
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds  
These words are all I have so I'll write them  
So you need them just to get by**

"You're not even trying!!" Shirako teased, spinning around. He did not face the screen and still made the perfect step every time. Mel glared at him.

"You just think you're so damn cute," she muttered, concentrating on the screen.

Shirako only laughed at her. "C'mon, Mel, put your back into it!"

_Why don't you show me  
the little bit of spine  
You've been saving  
For his mattress?_

Mel jumped high and aimed a roundhouse kick Shirako's way, but the Teku only ducked, pivoting on his heel to face the screen again. He grinned and hit another perfect combo while Mel did her best to match him.

**Dance, Dance  
We're falling apart to half time  
Dance, Dance  
And these are the lives you'd love to lead  
Dance, this is the way they'd love  
If they knew how  
Misery loved me**

**Why don't you show me  
the little bit of spine  
You've been saving  
For his mattress?  
I only want sympathy in the form  
of you crawling into bed with me**

**Dance, Dance  
We're falling apart to half time  
Dance, Dance  
And these are the lives you'd love to lead  
Dance, this is the way they'd love  
If they knew how  
Misery loved me**

The song ended, the steps stopped scrolling up the screen, and Mel stood up straight. A small crowd had gathered, not to watch them, but to wait their turn to play. She looked at the score, knowing there was no way she had beaten Shirako, and was surprised to see that she had come so very close. "Well, you won," she said. "As if we had expected anything else to happen."

Shirako held his head high at the impressive score he had obtained, and brushed past a group of fawning high school girls. He winked just to make them feel better, even though they could never ever have him.

"Happy now?" Kurt asked, slightly annoyed. He had his hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised.

"I am vindicated, and the disturbance in the Force has been remedied. Why wouldn't I be happy?" Shirako grinned, taking the older Teku's hand. "C'mon, I think I saw a Dead Teacher 3 console around here somewhere."

* * *

Monkey cautiously knocked on the door, and a concerned green eye met him. She only cracked the door open just barely, and after a moment of consideration, finally allowed him in.

Monkey did his best to appear not to care, but he couldn't help but notice how drawn Lani seemed, like butter spread thin on too much toast. Something weighed heavy on the young lady's mind, and as far as Monkey was concerned, that answered all questions. He would go straight for plan B.

"I'm sorry, baby, please, nothing happened!!" he insisted, falling to his knees. "I know what I said was really hurtful, but please—"

Lani held up her hand, signaling him to stop. A tired smile played on her lips.

"No, I'm sorry, Monkey," she said softly. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately, and when I saw the way she looked at you, I blew a gasket."

Monkey looked up from his place on the floor, his arms still wrapped tight around Lani's waist, so slowly as if he expected her to scream at him. Lani sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, and held his head to her chest. He savored her touch.

"But there's a long road ahead of us, Monkey" she said. "There's something important I have to tell you…

* * *

"It was just some stupid dance contest! I didn't even enter of my own free will. Shirako was all, like, 'you have dishonored me!' and he made me play!"

"Ya still lost to a Teku," Porkchop said, tearing into a chicken wing.

"Urrrgh. Markie, why'd you have to go and tell them? I'll never live this down!"

Wylde only shrugged, grabbing another slice of pizza. Tork had been nice enough to grab it on the way back from his aunt's house so the Metal Maniacs wouldn't have to fend for themselves. Tork, Taro, Porkchop and Wylde had gathered in Mel's room as usual and were watching "Without A Paddle" on TV.

"He was really good in Scooby Doo," Mel commented around a mouthful.

"Yeah, but the inhaler guy kinda reminds me of Monkey-man before he told y'all 'bout his powers."

"Yeah," Tork said. "I think he played Scott Evil."

There was a knock at the door, and speak of the devil, but it was Monkey. He walked in distractedly, sitting down between Porkchop and Mel. Taro watched him sympathetically, thinking he knew what was coming. The mechanic grabbed a slice of sausage and mushroom, wolfed it down, and looked at Porkchop for a considerable amount of time. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Porkchop," he said, imitating Marlon Brando, "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse."

Porkchop smirked. "Anything for the Don."

Monkey went back to his normal voice. "Good, 'cause we've been friends a long time now, and I think of you as my brother. This may shock you, but it would mean a lot to me, so here goes." He cracked his knuckles, looking around the room a moment, and took a deep breath. "Would you be my child's Godfather?"

For a moment, Porkchop just looked confused, but his eyes widened when he realized what the lanky redhead meant. "You and Lani…?"

"Are having a baby."

"WHAT?!"

Monkey sheepishly grinned at the five faces staring at him in wide eyed shock.

* * *

A/N: What can you add after something like that, except maybe...happy holidays. PEACE! 


	13. Babies, Bunnies, and Boots on Baker

A/N: I know, I know, took me long enough, right? Sorry. Distracted. Head in the clouds. Serial killers on the brain. You know how it is...

SOUNDTRACK: "Baker Street;" by Gerry Rafferty.

* * *

Taro stared in nothing short of complete confusion. A baby? Monkey and Lani…were having a baby? It was almost too much for his brain to process, and for a moment he couldn't understand what anyone was saying. Then, of course, he remembered that they were speaking English and he shook himself to regain his senses. He listened, still stunned.

"A baby?" Mel asked. "You're having a baby?!"

Monkey nodded, and Mel suddenly let loose a noise that sounded a lot like "SQUEEEEEEEE!" and hugged her brother. She jumped from foot to foot in excitement, giggling, and the rest of the Metal Maniacs joined in ruffling the thin red head's hair and enthusiastically praising and applauding him.

"I'm going to be an Aunt!!" she squealed. "Oh my God, we have to call Mom and Da, and tell Karma and Kurt and Shirako and Nolo and Vert and Dr. Tezla—"

Mel stopped in her tracks, eyes wide once more. Slowly, she turned her head towards the others with a pleading look in her eyes.

"This might be a weird time to ask," she said, carefully, "but has anyone seen Tezla since we checked in last week?"

"Ahh, he's probably in the casino," Porkchop said, waving her off. He had come out of his trance in a relative joy the same as Mel's and wanted to focus on a friend in need. "Who cares about Tezla, anyway? Monkey's gonna be a daddy! "

"How could you say that?!"

"Mel, how come you can't just be happy for yer brother?"

"Porkchop," she said sternly, "Dr. Tezla's the one paying for everything!"

Mel's male teammates, who moments before had been congratulating Monkey looked from Mel, to Monkey, to Mel again, and an eerie silence settled over the hotel room.

* * *

Taro returned to the room where the AcceleRacers were congregated, a grim and irritated scowl replacing his usual look of quiet contemplation. Nolo stopped pacing the floor and looked up expectantly; the leader of the Teku was five grand in the hole and had hoped Tezla would loan him some cash in exchange for a promise of future driving.

"Well?" he said, his eyes pleading, and each and every one of the Teku and Metal Maniacs stared at Taro as if he were their judge jury and executioner, for his word held their fate.

"He went to the Bunny Ranch" he said, throwing up his arms in exasperation, a look of disgust on his face. "The dirty old codger went to the Bunny Ranch and didn't tell us."

"And the bill?" Nolo asked, forcing patience into his voice.

"All on his credit cards. Everything we run up automatically gets charged to his accounts."

The room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but Nolo's desperation took hold and he grabbed Taro by his shirt collar.

"Please, please, tell me that includes debts in the casino!" he begged. Taro looked down at him with eyebrows askew and gently tried to nudge the Teku off of him.

"You're invading my personal space, Nolo," he said, fearing for his own safety, and Nolo shook him.

"Does that include debts to the casino?!"

Taro froze for a second, but managed to nod yes, and Nolo relaxed. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and laughed.

"Maria, Jesus y Jose, thank you for the second chance. I am never gambling again!"

Taro backed away slowly and stood next to Karma. He smiled softly at her, but she looked away from him.

"So, Lani, I heard about you and Monkey," she said, grinning.

"I know, isn't it great?" Mel said enthusiastically, and she and Karma plopped down on the couch on either side of the mother to be.

Lani shook her head. "Monkey, jeez…"

"What? Good news travels fast."

"He's right," Karma said. "Wow, so you and Monkey? I never would've seen that coming…"

Lani shrugged; by now, the guys were in their own groups, Teku on one side of the room, Metal Maniacs on the other. The girls might as well have been across town.

"How _did_ that happen, anyway?" Karma asked. "I really thought you hated him. You were always giving him those dirty looks back at the Acceledrome."

"I thought that was just because she didn't trust mutants," Mel interjected, but Karma shook her head.

"She was annoyed with him even before then," she said. "So, how about it, Lani? What happened between you two? How did the Maniac Mechanic land the perfect girl?"

Lani smirked just slightly, and motioned for them to come closer. She'd been around mostly men for so long that she almost forgot how to gossip! Almost, but not quite.

"So, most of the drivers were in the Junk Realm, right?" she asked softly, and the two other girls nodded. "He was being just so sweet to me, but I wasn't buying it. And that's when that idiot went into the Realm with Porkchop in Old Smokey! Crazy, right? Yeah. But I didn't think they made it out in time! I thought they got caught in the blast, and when he came into the control room, I was so angry that I just backhanded him right across his face, but I was also really glad he wasn't dead, and then- "

"And then you kissed him!" Mel said. "I remember that part!"

"And then you walked out with Porkchop," Lani continued, nodding. "And we stood there, in each other's arms, making out, and he was pulling on my hair a little bit, but I kinda liked it—"

"Oh, God, I didn't need to hear that!"

"Shut up, Mel, this is interesting. Please, go on."

"Tork was captured because I was distracted. If I'd been paying attention to the monitors, I could've sent someone back to pick him up," she said sadly. "I blamed myself, and I just felt so alone and he was there for me. We hooked up that night, and, well…Mel's going to be an aunt."

"What?!"

Nolo,Vert, Kurt and Shirako looked up; in all the confusion of the search for Dr. Tezla, no one had told them. Karma only knew because Taro had mentioned it in passing. Lani smiled at them, stifling a laugh, and held her arms up.

"I'm going to have a baby!" Lani said excitedly.

Kurt stared at her in absolute shock and even mild disappointment; talk about lowering your standards…

Vert let out a little laugh. "That-that's great, Lani," he said, caught off balance, but still thinking clearly. Could he use this as his excuse? "Lani, Monkey, congratulations! DUDE! We have to go to Dino's to celebrate. We must PARTY."

Monkey looked up from where Nolo was shaking his hand and stole a concerned glance at Karma and Taro. "I dunno, man, after last week…Would we even be welcome there?"

"Don't worry about it, man," Tork said, waving it off. "I told you, me and Boots are tight. It'll all work itself out."

* * *

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking; Lucky Number 77, nonstop Los Angeles to Las Vegas, has landed. We thank you for flying Northwest Airlines and wish you the best of luck. Have a pleasant stay in Sin City!"_

Major Jack Wheeler stepped off the plane and, grumbling, made for the main entrance. As if he hadn't been through enough, his access to SHIELD resources were temporarily suspended during his leave. Usually, the Major would have just called up a friend in the service to take him where he needed to be. He took a bullet for his country and this was how they repay him. And he really did _hate_ flying public airlines…

Jack stood upright, glaring into the setting sun, and tilted his head to either side to work out the kinks in his neck. He caught a cab to his hotel off the strip and settled in to his room, rummaging through his bag for what he needed. Finally, Jack found the crumpled piece of notebook paper he had grabbed during his call to his old friend Jeff, a former agent who now worked as a private detective. The address Jeff had given him was for a club on Baker Street, a run down neighborhood that had been a flourishing art district since the sixties, the residents consisting of a large concentration of societal outsiders. The place wasn't too far from the hotel, so he decided to walk in the hopes that the fresh air would clear his head.

As he exited the hotel, Jack breathed deeply the scents and sounds of the streets, squirreling away the paper in the front pocket of his khakis. Jack ambled on, glancing up at a sign to get an idea of where he was, but he was startled by the sound of music coming from a rooftop.

It was a sound so anguished, so full of remorse; a lonely saxophone somewhere nearby was howling its song, and he smiled sadly as he recognized the tune. Jack kept walking, quietly singing along with his phantom companion.

**Winding your way down on Baker Street  
Light in your head and dead on your feet  
Well, another crazy day  
You'll drink the night away  
And forget about everything  
This city desert makes you feel so cold  
It's got so many people but it's got no soul  
And it's taken you so long  
To find out you were wrong  
When you thought it held everything**

**You used to think that it was so easy  
You used to say that it was so easy  
But you're tryin'  
You're tryin' now  
Another year and then you'll be happy  
Just one more year and then you'll be happy  
But you're cryin'  
You're cryin' now**

He checked the address. Jack found the bar without much difficulty and reached into his khakis for the picture of his son he always kept in his wallet. He smiled again, fingering the edges of the photograph for a solitary moment; Vert stared back at him with a self important smile, his wet hair plastered to his forehead from a day spent surfing. What was his boy going through? What in God's name could have made him think he was adopted? Jack realized he hadn't been the perfect father; true, he was away a lot, and maybe he'd been a little too wrapped up in his own grief when his beloved Svetlana passed on, when his son needed him most, but Vert knew he loved him.

There was a young man in red plaid pants and a black leather vest at the entrance with a key; his deep blue hair shagged in his eyes as he yawned and opened the door.

"Excuse me," Jack started, taking the kid by surprise. He frowned at Jack as if he had intruded on something very personal and waved him off.

"Check what neighborhood you're in, pal," he said groggily. "Do I look like I wanna be a Jehovah's Witness? Get outta here."

Jack grabbed the chain that connected his nose ring to his earring before he could step inside, leering at him, and the kid winced and whined as the Major pulled. "I was wondering if you could help me" he said, grinding his teeth. The kid stared at him with fear in his eyes, and he let him go, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm Major Jack Wheeler, U.S. Army; I'm looking for my son."

"Folks call me Boots," the kid said coolly. People in his neighborhood didn't take too kindly to government types and he was unsure of the man's presence. Still, there was something familiar about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Look, I don't know, man, I don't know how I could be of any help…"

"He called home from your pay phone last weekend, early Saturday morning," he said, holding up the picture, and recognition and confusion shared equal territory on Boots' face.

"That's Mikki Kalishnikova. He's a roadie for the band that plays here Friday nights," he said, taking the picture and inspecting it more closely. "But he couldn't be your son; he grew up in an orphanage."

"No, my son's name is Vert Wheeler," he said, but Boots insisted.

"No, that's totally Mikki. I've known him since junior high, and that's definitely him. There was a guy fighting with him Friday night, though. They were screaming at each other in Russian and then they stopped and left with some friends. The guy did look a lot like Mikki, except for the complete and total lack of piercings, but the resemblance was friggin' scary if I do say so myself."

The Major nodded, more perplexed than ever. What was going on? "Well, uh, thanks anyway." He started off to leave with a wave, but Boots grabbed his shirt sleeve.

"Look, it's Friday, man, and the band strikes up about nine, so if you're here by then, he should be here. You can talk to him, maybe get some clues. The other guy might be here, too."

**Way down the street, there's a lad in his place  
He opens the door, he's got that look on his face  
And he asks you where you've been, you tell him who you've seen  
And you talk about anything  
He's got this dream about buying some land  
He's gonna give up the booze and the one night stands  
And then he'll settle down in some quiet little town  
And forget about everything**

Jack walked away with the promise to return, following the lonely song of the phantom saxophone player back to his hotel. Boots hurried into the bar and closed the door behind himself in case the older blonde man decided to take his anger out on him again, and hoped that his bouncers showed up soon. Maybe this city wasn't the place for him; he'd lived here his whole life, after all, and had never left. He could travel for a while, maybe, see the world. His father had done it, and his father before him, so why not? He could always come back later.

**But you know he only dreams of leaving  
You know he's never gonna get going  
'Cause he's so stuck  
Solid as a stone  
And when you get out it's a new evenin'  
The sun is settin' it's a new evenin'  
And you're goin'  
You're goin' home**

Jack sat on the bed in his hotel room, Vert's picture staring back at him, laughing, smiling… Could it be true? Who was this 'Mikki' Boots had mentioned? He looked for answers and he only received more questions. He thought about calling in another favor from Jeff, but no; he knew SHIELD still watched him since he left them, as a 'matter of national security' because he knew too much. Jeff was already involved enough, and Jack didn't want to endanger him. He would have to do his own detective work, though he already suspected the truth…

He shook his head. "No, that's not right," he said aloud. "We buried him. Vert was an only child after that. There's no way it could be Gustav."

* * *

A/N: Who the heck is Gustav, and why was he buried? smirk I'll never tell! Okay, maybe a chapter or two from now, but that might take a while!! Teehee!! 


	14. Won't You Take Me Home Tonight?

A/N: I have returned! About time, right? Aw, man, I gotta get a laptop so's I can crank this out at 2 AM instead of during my lunch break! SO! I collaberated with a dear friend of mine who recently changed her penname to Arata Takamoto on a random oneshot called The Nicest Kids In Town, featuring the both of us as characters. It's posted in the AcceleRacers section, but it's rated M for language and random thoughts. Angie will tell you all about it.

* * *

And so, as the rather large group staying at the Circus Circus—Tork, Porkchop, Monkey, Lani, Mel, Wylde, Kurt, Shirako, Karma, Taro, and Nolo—rounded the corner on their way to Dino's, it happened that they spotted a very paranoid looking young man pacing back and forth in the alley. His chestnut brown hair swayed before his pale blue eyes as he muttered to himself. 

"Well, I know _that,"_ he said, indignantly. "Of course they couldn't post the fic as rated T, silly, there was too much language for a oneshot. If had been spaced out over a few chapters then maybe Arata could've gotten away with it but she and FD just get so weird when they get together. They curse and there's nudity and people break into song, as if FD and Arata aren't bad enough the two authoresses get together and the Teku and Maniacs are screwed in that cabin in the woods with the big scary robots on the way and WHY?! Why, God, why would they call Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius, of all people?!?"

Wylde raised a single eyebrow, leaning away slightly. Monkey laughed.

"That's just Angie," he said. "Don't worry, man, he's okay."

Angie frowned, looking very frightened, backed against the wall, and pointed at Wylde. "Look out, kid, they know what you did! God knows when, but you're doing it again!!"

The door just next to him opened, and a Japanese boy with bright purple hair peered cautiously out through the crack before the door swung open and the short boy swaggered out. He had an annoyed look on his face. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" he said. "Grab your drumsticks and get your skinny white ass backstage. The show starts in twenty minutes, man."

Angie shrugged, disinterested, but smiled. "Tork brought new people, Jimmy! Four brand new and two barely used."

"Barely used?"

Angie nodded. "The two who ran out last week." He nodded in their direction, and Jimmy looked. He saw four people he didn't recognize, just as Angie had told him; two olive skinned guys in their twenties who looked related, a Japanese kid about his own age, and a pale red headed girl. Jimmy recognized the girl who had started the fight the previous week, making a mental note to leave her alone, but who really caught his eye was the tall Japanese man with the pony tail. His jaw dropped as he recognized the man, and his heart raced. Jimmy could not seem to form words. Angie poked his stomach.

"Jim-jimmy-jimmers? James Henry Edogawa? …Earth to Jimmy! Your body needs oxygen, Jimbo; you must _breathe_ in order to survive…"

St. Jimmy gasped inward after a few minutes, and immediately made a very strange squeaking noise like a frightened mouse. He laughed, gasping for air, a star struck smile on his face.

"Kitano-sama!!" Jimmy cried, throwing his arms skyward, and he fell to his knees. "I am not worthy."

Taro rolled his eyes. Angie looked confused, but this expression almost constantly graced his face, and so no one took any notice. "Kitano-sama?"

"Taro Kitano!!" Jimmy said excitedly, hopping to his feet. He clutched the drummer's arm in elation, shaking him and grinning like an idiot. "He is _legend_ in the land of the rising sun. Angie, this dude here is the Emperor God of Extreme Sports. Skiing, snowboarding, racecar driving, even old school martial arts and swordsmanship! Kitano-sama is a living legend and a walking god."

"Jimmy, my psychiatrist says hero worship can be dangerous…"

"Man, _nuts _to your psychiatrist!! He skied down Mount Everest! Do you have any idea what kind of physical hardship that entails?! You have to climb _up_ the mountain _first_ before you can ski back down again."

"Jimmy—"

"A GOD I SAY!!" Jimmy snapped, and then turned to the now very uncomfortable Taro. Was this boy perhaps the Mark David Chapman to his John Lennon? He certainly seemed unstable enough… "It is an honor and a privilege to be in the presence of greatness such as yours, Kitano-sama. Please excuse the noise I and my friend have made. I'm sure we have caused you some annoyance. I will take him inside."

Jimmy bowed deeply, a solemn expression adorning his face, and then, grabbing Angie firmly by his left ear, went back inside through the back door. The Teku and Metal Maniacs could only stand there in silence, and Taro sighed. He never could abide by his adoring fans. They made him…nervous. Taro trembled slightly as he remembered such a boy who had slipped into his apartment and photographed him while he slept. He turned to head back up the alley towards the door, and Wylde and Mel stepped aside, bowing.

"Right this way, Emperor," Wylde said with a smirk.

"That's Kitano-sama, Emperor God of Extreme Sports," Mel corrected. "Goodness, but I never knew we had royalty in our midst."

"Yeah, it's a privilege to be around greatness like his!"

Taro reeled back around, his eyes burning with the promise of retrinution, and the pair froze in their tracks. Taro only said two words to them, but his monotone voice spoke volumes.

"Shut up."

Mel giggled happily as she followed Wylde and the rest into the club; finally, it was an all ages night at Dino's, and she and Shirako were allowed to come along with everyone else.

"You're really going to love this place, Mel," Monkey said with a grin. Lexi, one of the extremely tall, but still very beautiful, bouncers at the door asked Mel for identification. She admitted readily that she was underage, and Lexi grabbed Mel's wrist and uncapping a bright blue marker, leaving an "X" on the exposed skin before doing the same to Wylde and Shirako. The blue "X" was to signify that they were under the drinking age and should not be served alcohol, while those who were of the proper age got a green "O" on the same spot. Nolo had a fake ID that was good enough to fool them, but no one ratted him out. Karma and Taro were next in line, but Lexi and her sister, Tasha, only glared down at them before calling Boots over. Seeing that both of them were offering up proper identification and wished to receive the green "O", he was knocked aghast.

"Uh-uh, no way, no how," he snarled. "After last week? HA! I think _not._ You two can just head right back out the door."

"Oh, come on, Boots," Tork said, pleading their case. "I know they weren't exactly…model customers—"

"Tork, I have a responsibility to my patrons!" Boots asserted. "A lot of these kids got picked on in school, and this is supposed to be their safe haven from all of that! Why ya think I employ the communist bloc here?" He pointed a thumb in the direction of Lexi and Tasha, who ignored the insult and kept marking wrists.

Tork smiled at him. "C'mon, Boots, they'll be good. We all just wanted to hang out tonight. They won't even drink." He glared at Taro and Karma, who reluctantly nodded.

"Tork, it's not just a question of behavior!" he said. "I had to clean all the booze, blood and scuff marks off of the floor, I had to replace the chairs they broke, Lexi and Tasha get bonuses for every fight they bust up, and now I don't even know if I can make payroll this week!!" He looked desperately into Tork's eyes and said "There comes a time in a man's life when he must put his foot down and say I'M LOSING TOO MUCH MONEY!!!"

After a moment, Boots smoothed his hair down and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to think. He gave a small chortle and smirked, opening his eyes. He reached behind the bar for a megaphone, receiving baffled looks from the Teku and Metal Maniacs.

"But I know how you can pay me back," he said with a sadistic smile. Boots fingered the button on the megaphone and pointed it in the direction of the crowd, jumping up on the bar. "Ladies and Gentlemen, what a lovely evening it is, and how wonderful it is to see you after all that nastiness last week. And, since you're back, we have a special treat for all you ladies out there with lonely hearts!"

Tork's eyes widened. He wouldn't dare. "Boots, come on, don't do this."

"You'd take his place?" Tork looked away and Boots went back to his emceeing. "Ladies, ladies, ladies, it is _time_ for the Man Auction!! Six hours with a strapping young buck to do _whatever_ you want with him, to the highest bidder! Our precious parcel will be onstage in a few moments, so check your wallets!"

Taro's eyes widened in fear and he wildly shook his head no, his hair whipping in his face. In Japan, he had barely been able to walk the streets without being accosted by fans, and he couldn't handle this kind of subjugation. That was precisely why he came to America. No one knew who he was, and almost no one cared. But if they saw him… Taro couldn't let himself be seen. He just couldn't go on display like that! "No. No, I-I-I can't! I can't go on stage, please, no!!"

"Don't make him do this, Boots. Come on, be cool now."

Boots stood his ground. "Look, like I said, Tork, if you would rather take his place, feel free to do so, but the damage has been done."

"I can't go up there!" Taro hissed frantically, hiding behind Karma, and Boots narrowed his eyes.

"Well, someone's gotta go up there, buddy-boy, and it ain't gonna be me. Lexi! Tasha!"

The giant blondes came to either side of Taro, each grabbing an arm and lifting him off his feet. Taro turned to Karma, his eyes begging, pleading for assistance. Monkey and Porkchop could only shake their heads as if to say 'what a shame,' but they would not stop the Onoprienko sisters from doing their jobs. From the shadows a little ways from the stage, Jimmy watched the ordeal, disgusted. How could Boots do this to his idol? He stepped forward, resolved.

"Wait," Jimmy said, bowing his head. "I'll go."

"Jimmy… You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do, Tork." The diminutive youth turned to Boots, his expression unwavering. "I'll take Kitano-sama's place, Boots. Tell the girls you're selling a Saint tonight."

Tork looked into the young Jap's eyes, searching, but he knew Jimmy wouldn't back down. He smiled softly down at him, and Lexi and Tasha looked to Boots for orders. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jimmy?"

"I'm sure." Boots nodded to the girls, who released Taro, and Jimmy stepped up between them. "Are you okay, Kitano-sama?"

Taro stared at him in astonishment and relief. This kid, this purple haired fanboy whom he had shunned in the alley, was coming to his rescue. He nodded, giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze, along with a heartfelt smile. "Thank you."

From the hallway between the bathrooms and the entrance to the backstage area, Nona glared daggers at the whole lot of them. She pointed at her wrist to indicate that they didn't have much time, and Jimmy headed towards her, giving Tork and his friends a wave and a charming smile.

"I'm real sorry 'bout that, buddy," Boots said. "I know it was mostly your lady friend here who caused all that trouble, but I could never do that to a woman."

"Stay away from me," Taro said, recovering his usual cold disposition, and that was the end of the conversation. Boots shrugged, not really caring either way. He had business to take care of anyway.

"May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please, OY! SHUT UP!!" Boots cleared his throat, smoothing his hair out, and then returned the megaphone to his lips. "You would not _believe_ what I had to go through to broker this deal we've got for you, but the important thing is that I did it, didn't I? Ladies, tonight, and tonight _only_, live, onstage and in your bedroom, can I get a drum roll, please?"

Confused as ever, Angie obliged, and Boots grinned. "Ladies, to the highest bidder, the Illustrious St. Jimmy Edogawa!" Almost every girl in the place went absolutely nuts, screaming, waving fistfuls of dollars, and rushing the stage. Lexi and Tasha stepped up, forming a blockade that caused the girls to step back.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Nona hissed into Jimmy's ear.

"I was helping out a friend," Jimmy hissed back through grinding teeth, and marched onstage with a seductive smile. Nona reluctantly followed the boy out. Throwing off any sign of fear or doubt, Jimmy stepped up to his microphone and picked up Wren from her guitar stand. His smile turned to a hopeful little pout, and he fluttered his eyelashes before he began to sing.

**Oh, you gonna take me home tonight  
Oh, down beside that red firelight  
Oh, you gonna let it all hang out  
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round**

"Shall we start the bidding at, say…fifty dollars?" Boots called, and the girls cried out to him.

"Fifty bucks!"

"Seventy-five!"

"Eighty!"

**I was just a skinny lad  
Never knew no good from bad  
But I knew life before I left my nursery  
Left alone with big fat Fannie  
She was such a naughty nanny  
Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me**

**I've been singing with my band  
'Cross the water, 'cross the land  
I seen every blue eyed floozy on the way  
But their beauty and their style  
Went kind of smooth after a while  
Take me to them naughty ladies every time  
**

"That's one-twenty, one-twenty, now, do I hear one-thirty?"

"One-thirty!"

"One-fifty!"

"Shut your face, bitch!"

"What the heck is going on here?" Mel said, watching the slap fight that had erupted between two bidders near the stage. This Jimmy kid was good, but what was the big deal? Nolo only looked on eagerly while the fight descended into scratching and hair pulling.

"I don't know," he said, leering at the pretty Hippy girl as she tore at the Ska chick's top, "but it's kinda hot."

Tork and Porkchop nodded, smiling, all three tilted their heads to get a better look at the pair of girls near the stage as Lexi and Tasha pulled them apart, and the ska chick's top ripped free of her shoulders, clutched in the desperate Hippy's fist.

"Nice pair," Porkchop said.

"Real nice," Nolo agreed.

**Oh, won't you take me home tonight?  
Oh, down beside your red firelight  
Oh, and you give it all you got  
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round  
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round  
**

In the meantime between the beginning of the first set and Taro's near stage experience, Whitey had seated them far back from the stage in anticipation of the night's events. The Wylde brothers shared a booth with each of their significant others, watching the show, but Mel could only shake her head.

"I don't get it," she said. "I mean, they play really hot, but he's nothing special to look at."

"Nothing special," Kurt lied. Actually, he thought Jimmy was pretty cute, but Shirako didn't need to hear that. "They play okay, I guess."

"Not my thing, dude," Shirako said. "Not mine, but not bad."

"Two hundred!"

**Hey listen here!  
Now I got mortgages on homes  
I got stiffness in my bones  
Ain't no beauty queens in this locality  
Oh, but I still get my pleasure  
Still got my greatest treasure  
Heaping woman, you gonna make a big man of me  
Now get this!**

**Oh, you gonna take me home tonight**

"Please?" he said sweetly.

**  
Oh, down beside that red firelight  
Oh, you gonna let it all hang out  
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round  
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round**

"Get on your bikes and ride!" Jimmy called, descending into a guitar solo. It was at this moment that the feeling finally dawned on Mel, a chill running down her spine. His string work was like therapy, each note melting away some secret fear she didn't know she had. She felt very content for absolutely no reason she could think of, except for the music. Mel wrapped her hands around Markie's muscular arm and leaned on him, snuggling into his chest.

Kurt and Shirako tilted their heads to the sides with cute little smirks. "Awwww," they said together.

Kurt went one step further. "That is so adorable!" he said. Whitey came by with their drinks, smirking.

"Most everyone who hears the band reacts like that," he said. "To hear Jimmy play is to have a religious experience. That's why they call him Saint Jimmy." Still the auction continued, Jimmy now egging the girls on from under the spotlight.

"Two-eighty-five!"

"Aww, yeah!"

"Two-ninety!!"

"Ride 'em, cowboy!"

Oozing charm, he had them in a frenzy on the dance floor, all the while unaware of how Nona longed to strangle him in that moment. What did he think he was doing? How could he tear her heart apart like this? Jimmy _knew_ Nona wanted to be more than friends with him, but he said he was afraid it would ruin the band. She could accept that, but it still hurt so much that the little punk would flaunt his conquests in front of her like this. It just wasn't fair.

From a table near the door, a girl in a lacy black dress was huddled with two other girls, one in a sweater and beret and another in blue flannel. They had it all figured out, pooling what cash they had: they would split the six hours between the three of them, each spending two hours alone with St. Jimmy. With a final nod of agreement, the Gothic Lolita stood on her table, waving their money.

"Five hundred and eighty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents!!" she cried out, and Boots banged a bottle of Jack Daniels on the bar.

"Sold!! To the lovely lady in Lolita's lace!!"

Nona shook her head, ashamed to think she was even friends with this jerk. "Whore," she whispered. But still the band played on.

* * *

Jack was almost surprised by the music that greeted him from the back alleys surrounding Baker Street, the same winding road having been deserted earlier that day. For a moment he thought he'd lost his way, but he checked the street signs, and, sure enough, he was on the right track. The garish green neon sign invited him to Dino's Bar & Grille, but just the same, Jack decided to go in the back way so Vert couldn't see him coming. 

Jack hung a left down the alley that led to the backstage area, expecting to get the drop on his son in the club, but what he saw there instead shocked him. Standing in the alley, leaning against a brick wall, a blonde haired, blue eyed boy decked out all in black was smoking a cigarette. At first, Jack couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he knew his eyes didn't lie, and he became enraged.

"Josef Vladimir Wheeler, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he barked, grabbing the boy by his shirt. He sputtered and choked, fearful eyes locked on Jack's, and held onto the older man's wrists.

"Please, I don't—"

Jack slapped him hard across his face, and he yelped out in pain. "Dammit, Vert, I thought I raised you better than that! You know smoking is awful for you, your mother died of cancer for chrissakes!!" He shook the boy and he began to scream something in Russian. Jack rolled his eyes. "Vert, you know my Russian's terrible…"

"Um…I'm over here, Dad."

Jack froze, staring at the brick wall, and slowly turned around. There in jeans and a t-shirt stood a blonde haired, blue eyed boy with a clean face and absolutely no piercings. A part of him was relieved to see his son in good shape, but the rest of him panicked. He turned to the boy in his grip, then to Vert, then back to the one in black. He let go of Mikki, backing away as the color drained from his face.

"No," he said. "No, no, we buried you, and then Vert was an only shild. No, Gustav, dammit, you're supposed to be dead!!"

Jack's back was against the opposite wall now, his wide and unbelieving eyes flying back and forth between his sons. Vert reached for him, and he recoiled.

"Dude, fuck him," Mikki said, stepping on his cigarette. "He almost killed me just 'cause I was smoking."

"Well, it is really bad for you, dude."

"Oh, now, don't you start in on me, too, Vert."

"Smoking is _bad,_ Mikki."

Jesus H. Christ, Jack thought. What the hell is going on here? The door to the backstage area opened again and an aging Cockney man came through, his disheveled hair streaked with gray from the roots.

"'Scuse me, lads," he said with an oily smile, "but I would really like to sign this band that's playin' tonight and me barrister is bored outta his skull, so can we please get this show on the fuckin' road?"

* * *

A/N: And the confusion continues to mount. I'm so happy!! I got cast in a parody of Romeo and Juliet! It takes place in modern day New York City, the Montagues and Capulets own rival clothing stores, the sword fight between Tybalt and Mercutio descends into a pie fight, and all the chorus members are named after food (Oregano, Pesto, Prosciutto, etc.). Also, there is a scene at a disco club, and since I am the sound director in additon to being an Italian tourist name Gucci (traveling with my cousin Versace), I get to pick some very Shirako-worthy tunes for Romeo and Winifred: A Tragical Comedy in Two-and-a-half Acts. 


	15. Until Proven Guilty

A/N:I updated quicker than usual! Yay for me.

**Soundtrack:** "Innocent," by Our Lady Peace.

* * *

Mikki scowled, but Vert forced a smile. "We'll be right in, Stan, don't you worry about a thing." Vert gave him a thumbs up, and Stan shrugged, going back inside. Vert exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair, and pointed an accusing finger at his father. "You!! What do you think you're doing here?!"

"Don't you use that tone with me," he snapped, getting his bearings. "I came looking for you!"

"I told you I didn't want to be found. You lied to me. I thought I was your son—"

"You are my son!"

"How come you never told me I was adopted?!"

"You are most definitely NOT adopted!!"

"Then how do you explain him?!" Vert roared back. "Mikki grew up in an orphanage, _Major Wheeler._ Right, Mik?"

His eyes burned as he glowered at the Major, who was quickly losing his force. Mikki narrowed his eyes, and the tension in the alley was palpable. "I was completely and utterly alone. I even tried to commit…self murder…

"But it's okay now!" he exclaimed defensively, putting an arm around Vert's shoulder. "No matter how many friends I had, I always thought that, deep down, I was alone in the world. But now it turns out that there's this crazy California surfer dude who looks just like me, and we even like the same things. We both love to race, and we both love to skateboard—"

"Which is why we're here now!" Vert said. "That's Stan Slither, president of Slither Hither Records and proprietor of Slither's Twisted Tour. He wants to sign us to skate professionally in the traveling show when there aren't any bands onstage."

He looked pleadingly into the eyes of the man who had raised him. "I know some crazy stuff's goin' on right now, and I want some answers, but we really need to hurry back in," he said. "This could be my big break."

"_Our_ big break," Mikki corrected.

"Whatever! The point is that we need to get the fuck back in there and negotiate our contract before Stan gets pissed and leaves!! NOW!"

Vert grabbed Mikki's arm, and walked towards the stage door. "You can come if you like," he said over his shoulder, "but keep quiet. I don't even know if I want you in my life anymore, so don't push your luck."

* * *

At the end of the second set, Nona tramped backstage, groaning in disappointment. Angie followed her with his head down, ready to run at a moment's notice. Nona threw open the closet door, searching through a box in the bottom, speaking under her breath all the while.

"You know," Angie whispered tentatively, "I'm usually the one who mutters to themselves around here…"

Nona turned on him; her eyes like blazing oceans, she went back to her rummaging.

He silently took a step back, making sure he was out of striking distance. Angie had suffered countless beatings at his mother's hands, and in addition to contributing to his mental illness, the encounters had more than taught him to give women their space. "Nona…? I-is everything okay…?"

"It's none of your business, okay?!" she snapped, causing him to jump back. "This is between me and that pompous ass who calls himself a guitarist."

"Hey, hey, hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Jimmy cried, slamming the dressing room door behind him. He blinked. "Hey, what are you looking for?"

"I can't go on like this, Jimmy," she said, angrily. "I am sick to death of the way you carry on. You ham it up, you show off, and you wave your conquests in my face!!"

She rose to her feet, tears at the corners of her eyes. "You know I love you, Jimmy!!" she cried. "Why do you have to hurt me like this?!"

"Nona…"

"Don't you 'Nona' me!" she said, sobbing.

"Nona, love is a beautiful thing, but you know as well as I do that a love lost can breed hatred. If anything happened between us, it would be the end of the band."

"The band," she growled. "The band, the band, the band. We all know what you mean when you say the band, Jimmy. You mean your own damn self, 'cause you sure ain't thinkin' 'bout me an Angie when you say it would be the end of the goddamned band!"

**Oh, Jimmy wishes he was famous  
He spends his time alone in the basement  
With Lennon and Cobain and  
A guitar and a stereo**

**And, well, he wishes he could escape this  
But it all seems so contagious  
Just to be all self- and faceless  
In song that has no soul**

**I remember feeling low  
And I remember losing hope  
And I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped**

_Yeah, well Nona's losing faith in what she knows  
Hates her music, hates all of her clothes  
Thinks of surgery and a new nose  
Every calorie is a war_

_And while she wishes she was a dancer  
And that she'd never heard of cancer  
She wishes God would give her some answers  
And make her feel beautiful_

_I remember feeling low  
And I remember losing hope  
And I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped_

Angie stared aghast at the accusations his friends were leveling at each other. He knew them both, he had since junior high. Jimmy and Nona were good people, and yet, here tthey were, calling one another posers…Sellouts…Hypocrites… The air was heavy with the weight of their words.

"Come one, guys," Angie said softly, his voice quavering. "That's enough! C-cut it out, okay..? I mean, who are we to judge each other?

We are, we are all innocent  
We are all innocent  
We are, we are...  
We are, we are all innocent  
We are all innocent  
We are, we are...

_One day, you'll have to let it go  
You'll have to let it go_

**No...  
**

_One day, you'll stand up on your own  
You'll stand up on your own_

Remember losing hope  
Remember feeling low  
Remember all the feelings and the day they stopped

We are, we are all innocent  
We are all innocent  
We are, we are...

* * *

Jack sat quietly, listening as the deal was discussed. Apparently, this Stan Slither guy did indeed want to sign both blondes on as members of the extreme sports division of his traveling show. The Twisted Tour was about as close to a traveling carnival as you could get, but from what he was hearing, it was still closer to a concert festival; almost like Woodstock, but a little more edgy.

A part of him hoped that everything would turn out alright, but Jack had a gut feeling that even if Vert _did_ forgive him, he wouldn't get a chance to celebrate his son's accomplishments. And what about Mikki? Was he truly Gustav, the child he thought had died within twenty minutes of his birth?

Jack thought back to that day, and how happy he had been to become a father; how beautiful Svetlana was… They had been expecting twin boys and weren't disappointed. The first boy came out fighting, and they named him Gustav Yuri Wheeler. The nurse took the baby away, and Svetlana rested for a few minutes until the contractions started up again. Once they had, the second birth was relatively easier than the first, and the young couple named him Josef Vladimir Wheeler. Just as they thought they had cause to celebrate, the same nurse from before reappeared with the news that their first child had died.

It was a crushing blow to Svetlana. In a fit of rage and grief, she had demanded that the dead child was not hers; that it was the son of the sickly woman sharing the room with her and that this other woman had taken her son and handed him over to social services.

With the events that were taking place now, with everything he had heard from Mikki and Vert, Jack couldn't help but wonder if maybe Svetlana was right.

"No, no, no, this is all wrong," Mikki said loudly, rousing Jack from his thoughts. "No, we want a _non­-_ exclusive contract. We want to be able to appear at events other than your tour dates, including but not limited to the X-Games and/or the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards."

"And we will most definitely _not_ be billed as The Flying Kalishnikova Brothers," Vert added.

"Whoa, hey, now, I like that name! It's got an old-world circus feel to it."

"Yeah, but it's just your name."

"Dude, we're identical twins!"

"Well, yeah, but I don't even know for sure if that's our real name, I mean—"

Their squabble descended into Russian, and in spite of himself, Jack smiled. If Vert wasn't sure about using Mikki's name, then he was coming back to reality. It was completely beyond him how Vert could possibly think he was adopted; after all, he really looked just like Jack, and even had his mother's delicate expressions. Mikki did, too, really, now that he looked. Either this kid was Gustav, or someone had illegally cloned Jack's son just to mess with him.

Stan and his lawyer shared a look, annoyed; this was getting them nowhere.

"Settle down, lads, settle down. That's enough."

"He started it," Mikki asserted.

"I don't care who started it, I'll finish it, yeh little bastard!!" Stan said in a screechy voice that had seen too many late nights. "Look, wha's all this, then? What did you mean, you don't know what ya real name is? This is a bleeding serious legal matter here! I'm trying to help you two reach your dreams and you are most heinously putting me in dire bleeding straits! And who the fuck is that guy?! Bloody hell!"

Jack gave a disciplined look, sitting strait and tall, and spoke to Stan. "There's no need for that, sir. I'm their father."

Stan and his lawyer both looked confused. "Wha? On the phone, Mikki said he grew up in an orphanage."

"I…well, I did, but Vert was raised by this guy and his wife…" Mikki trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"It's a complicated story," Vert added.

"Well, look, lads, complicated or not, I can't very well sign you without knowing the truth. I may put off this punk image but th'fact of the matter is if I screw up on these things I go straight back to England and then no more Twisted Tour."

Vert and Mikki exchanged a glance, and then looked away.

"Maybe you should start at the beginnin', then?" Stan asked, crossing his arms. When they said nothing, he shook his head and picked up his briefcase, nodding to his lawyer. "Right, then, well, we'll just be going—"

Vert stopped him, explaining how he came to Vegas just to party with some friends and ended up running into Mikki when he was lugging equipment for The Foundlings. Mikki took up where he left off, saying that he grew up in an orphanage, and that he and Vert had concluded that Vert was adopted while Mikki was not. It went back and forth like that for a few minutes, until Vert got to the part where he left his father the message, believing his life to be a lie, at which point Jack saw his chance. He took up the story, telling the boys what he could recall from the day Vert was born.

"We never told you that you had a twin," he continued, "because we were worried it would mess with your head. Elvis Presley was in the same boat, and just look what a tremendously screwed up person he turned out to be, the way he died. Sure, he went far, but he was never happy, because he always blamed his own birth for the death of his twin brother Jesse."

Vert looked at the floor, so Mikki spoke instead.

"I guess that's plausible," he said grudgingly.

"But how do we know he's telling the truth?" Vert said.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Oh, you _must_ be daft. Just get a paternity test already! Damn blondes…"

The three aforementioned blondes looked back and forth between each other; in all honesty, the thought of a paternity test had never crossed any of their minds. Just as Jack was about to agree that Stan had had a good idea, they heard shouting from the next room. The back room that Boots was allowing them to use for the contract negotiations was right next to the dressing room where The Foundlings were spending intermission.

Remember losing hope  
Remember feeling low  
Remember all the feelings and the day they stopped

Mikki jumped out of his seat at the series of high pitched screams issued from the other side of the wall. He threw the door open just in time to see Nona running into the alley, leaving St. Jimmy writhing on the floor, clutching at his face.

"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!" was all he could manage to say in the highest voice any man in the room had ever heard. Angie knelt over him as they ran into the hall.

"What happened?" Mikki asked, his voice cracking.

"I-I-I don't know!!" Angie replied frantically. "Sh-she just sprayed that stuff in his face and ran off!!"

"What stuff?!" Mikki ran into the dressing room and picked up an aerosol can from the floor. The brand name was in Russian and there was a picture of an angry bear on the front of the can.

"She maced him!!" he said. "We need to rinse out his eyes! Help me get him to the bathroom—"

"No, Mikki, that stuff's made with habanera peppers! Water makes it _worse!_ You have to use milk!" Jack lifted the screaming boy into his arms, and Mikki led him to the kitchen.

Stan shook his head in horror, and then threw his hands up in exasperation. "This—this is just great; just bleeding swell. Americans."

Angie turned to him, his usual confused expression on his face. "Hey, aren't you Stan Slither?"

* * *

Jimmy whimpered, whined and hissed in pain, but still managed not to scream as Major Wheeler set him gently on his feet, carefully leaning his face over the sink. He opened the fresh carton of milk the albino waiter handed him and allowed it to gently trickle over Jimmy's face, paying close attention to his eyes. Jimmy almost immediately gave a shuddering sigh, relieved, and shivered.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much, dude. I thought I was going to go blind for a minute there."

"You still might, actually."

"What?!"

"Kidding!"

Vert rolled his eyes, punching Jack lightly in the arm and splashing milk all over the place. "You shouldn't joke about that kind of stuff, Dad."

He raised an eyebrow and flicked milk off of his now soaked hands. "Dad?" he asked. "Not Major Wheeler?"

"Don't push your luck, _Jack,"_ Vert reminded him, but Jack kept smiling.

Mikki squared his shoulders, scowling once more, but there was a softer look to his eyes now. "Thanks for helping my friend," he grumbled.

Jack smiled softly. "You're welcome."

* * *

A/N: This is important, so don't skip it: I collaborated with my friend, Arata Takamoto, on a story we titled The Nicest Kids In Town. We posted it under _her_ name, in the AcceleRacers section, rated M. I believe I told you this already, but I feel the need to reiterate. I decided to hold a contest, see? Every person who leaves a signed review for The Nicest Kids In Town before I post the next chapter will be entered into a lottery. The winner will get to commission me to write an AcceleRacers oneshot in the genre and topic of their choosing! So, what are you waiting for? Go read Arata's story. 


	16. Bombshell

A/N: I am disappointed that no one really read Arata's story, but I'm not surprised. I told her it was tame enough for a high "T" but she wanted to be on the safe side and rate it "M." anyway, since she's the only one who reviewed besides me, and I'm ineligible to win my own contest, cala-lily wins by default. I'm already throwing ideas around for a oneshot centered around Mikki in his childhood. I'm thinking raccoons... Congratulations, cala-lily! And shame on the rest of you.

**Soundtrack:** "Big Blonde And Beautiful," from the musical Hairspray by Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman, Mark O'Donnel and Thomas Meehan.

* * *

"I had to do it, Tork," he said. "I do it every time someone owes me money. If I let him off just because he's your friend, it woulda made me look soft. C'mon, man, throw me a bone here! We're pals, right?" 

Tork shook his head, waving Boots off. "Man, I don't even know you anymore," he said. "What kind of Bohemian are you?"

"I am a business Bohemian, thank you kindly."

"Whatever."

Tork turned away from someone he once thought of as a friend, wondering if things would ever be the same. He went towards the men's room, glancing at Monkey and Lani necking in their booth as he passed. At least _they_ were having a good time.

* * *

Karma sighed; she wasn't sure how to tell Taro the truth. "So… you almost went home with some random girl, Taro?" 

"Not by choice," he said defensively. He rubbed the spot where Tasha had grabbed his arms. There was definitely a bruise forming. "You seem troubled."

"Aren't we all?" Karma rolled her eyes and sighed. "Taro, I found the marriage certificate. It's wrong."

He stared into her eyes, dread rooting firmly in his heart. "Karma, I know you're still scared, but I meant what I said! I love you, and—"

"No, stupid, it's wrong." She thrust the piece of paper under his nose. "Read it."

Taro took the marriage license out of Karma's hand, studying it. "I don't see anything out of place."

"Check the line that says 'name of the bride.'"

Taro's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Who the heck is Terrance C. Buchwald?!"

"He's an Elvis impersonator who mostly entertains at a children's hospital in downtown Buffalo. Apparently, he was as drunk as we were."

"I'm married to an Elvis impersonator?!"

Karma smiled coldly. "Same sex marriage is illegal in Nevada. The certificate is invalid. As far as the state's concerned, the wedding never happened."

He was quiet for a moment, and then Taro shook his head in disbelief. "This is too weird."

"It's—it's not necessarily a bad thing," Karma said hopefully. Her cheeks were tinged pink. "Maybe now, now that the pressure's not on, maybe we could try again. Maybe slow down enough to check out the scenery."

Taro smiled at her. "I think I'd like that."

A door slammed and the bar fell into a hush, listening to the high pitched screams that issued from the back. Lexi, Tasha, Taro, Wylde, Kurt and Porkchop stood up and turned towards the corridor, ready to fight, and saw a middle aged blonde gentleman with a writhing form in his arms. He ran into the kitchen, and the last thing anyone saw before Vert and Mikki followed him in was a flash of bright purple hair.

The eldest Onoprienko sisters went right in after them with a speed that rivaled that of Tork's own Dodge Challenger.

"Jimmy!" Taro said, snapping to attention, and he chased after the string of blondes, Karma trailing after him. They burst through the doors.

"Oh man, that is so much better," Jimmy said, his voice faltering. He was leaning his head over the side of the sink; Vert lightly punched the older gentleman in the arm, splashing milk on the floor, and Mikki thanked him for helping his friend. The man looked familiar, but not terribly, and Taro couldn't quite recall his identity. The scene laid out before him was so very strange that he could, in fact, think of only one thing to say.

"Why do you have milk on your face?"

"Because it is less painful and much less spicy than pepper spray," he answered, as if that told the whole story.

Vert waved at him. "Oh, Taro, this is our father."

"_Alleged_ father," Mikki reminded him. "First thing tomorrow, man, we are getting a paternity test. The suspense is killing me."

"Killing you?! What about me?! I'm the one going blind here!!"

"Shut up, Jimmy. There's no use crying over spilled milk, or illegally obtained Russian Bear Mace, used for the training of carnivorous circus animals."

"Dude! No way!" Vert said incredulously. "How'd you know that?"

"Says so right on the can," he said with a shrug. "This stuff's only legal in Russia."

"Cool."

"Hello?!? Career musician in extreme pain here!!"

Taro thought for split second before making up his mind about the right thing to do, flashing an apologetic look at Karma. "You need to go to the hospital," he said, helping Jimmy up from the floor. The smaller Jap, eyes still a ghastly red, smiled gratefully.

"Oh, th-thank you, Kitano-sama! That's so kind of you."

"It's the least I could do."

Taro nodded to Lexi and Tasha with such a refined authority that they covered his flanks, ready to fend off Jimmy's fangirls at a moments notice. When they made their way through the kitchen doors, however, they found they needed to take no such precaution: the bar was almost empty. Boots stood at the front door, shouting at the nervous crowd.

"Slow down, single file!" he commanded them. "Please calmly and quietly exit the bar for your own safety. We will most likely be closed a few days but we will open again. That's a promise."

Tork came rushing towards the back, a concerned look on his face. "Taro, where have you been? Someone freaked out about the screaming and called the cops. We gotta get outta here and fast."

"Fast is my specialty," he said. He informed Tork he was taking Jimmy to the hospital and said he would call him later. The rest of the Teku and Metal Maniacs were already leaving with the instructions to meet at Pietro's Diner in Little Moscow.

Mikki and Vert moved double time to disassemble Angie's drum kit and get it into the van, along with Nona's forgotten bass, amp and distortion pedals. Before they left, Jimmy begged Taro to get his guitar, refusing to leave without it.

"I need Wren," he implored tiredly. Taro agreed for the sake of time and they got the hell out of dodge.

* * *

Vert took a few steps down the street, watching Night Prowler speed away. It looked like Dino's was closing early tonight. Even if Boots had wanted to stay open, his band was gone. Jimmy was on his way to the hospital in the back of Taro's car, and Nona peeled out for parts unknown after macing the guitarist. The pair left the rest behind to deal with their mess and wonder why. 

Vert turned suddenly and found Angie. The drummer had moments before been repeatedly poking him in the back, and now that he had turned around, he was poking Vert in the chest. He was wearing a shirt now, at least.

"Hey, Surfer Mikki, what's your name again?" he asked. Vert glanced around; Mikki was talking with their dad and didn't notice them.

"It's Vert, actually…"

"Right, right, look, Vert, Stan told me everything, about how he wanted to sign you and the Mik-meister to his tour." Angie looked down for a moment, his soft, half-anxious smile flickering for a moment. "I—I think that's great. I'm happy for you. But I want you to do something for me."

He looked up again. "You need to watch out for Mikki, okay? He puts up a tough front, but he's really a very emotionally dependent person. If Mikki doesn't have someone who kids around to brighten his day, someone to—well, someone to brother, really—his mood just deteriorates until…"

Angie made a noise in his throat and mimed cutting his wrists. Vert cringed, more than a little alarmed by Angie's assessment of the situation. Mikki was better now; he would never do something like that…would he? Of course he wouldn't have!!

"I know you're used to being an only child but, please, take good care of him for me."

Vert regained his composure and replied.

"Angie, you don't need to worry about it," he said, trying to reassure both himself and the older but more sensitive boy. "Stan said he wanted to sign the band, too, so when we go on tour, you'll be coming with us."

Angie smirked but it didn't touch his eyes, which seemed to be far away. "Stan told me that part, too, Vert. Thing is…I don't know if we _are_ a band anymore."

The fearful eyed brunette tried to smile at Vert, but the expression on his face made him look more as if he were pitifully begging for mercy. Vert tilted his head to the side, studying Angie, trying not to get too attached. The pain in his eyes was indescribable.

"Vert!"

Mikki and the Major beckoned him towards the parking lot, and when he turned back, Angie was gone.

Across the street, Boots was still screaming at the few stragglers who remained nearby as he locked up the bar.

"Move it! Beat it! Skedaddle!" he bellowed. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!!"

"Well," Lexi said dryly to her younger sister, "looks like we've got the rest of the night off."

"You can come to the diner with us if you like," Karma offered. "I can give you a ride, but you better decide fast."

"Thank you ever so much, darling," Tasha said as she got into Digi Precision's back seat, but it came out more like 'dahlink.'

"Oh, we haven't been to see little Vladchik in ages," Lexi chirped. And with that, Karma sped off with her passengers.

* * *

Tork waved hello to Vlad Girda and took a quick head count as he surveyed the diner. He had grown very close to Metal Maniacs and Teku alike over their time spent at the Acceledrome and considered them all to be family. So far, Tork was having a bad night, and the fear at the back of his mind was that, on top of Nona's reaction and disappearance, one or more of his friends may have been arrested while fleeing the scene at Dino's. This very fear was as good as confirmed when he noticed that Monkey and Lani had yet to arrive, and neither had Vert, Mikki, or their father, or Angie or Karma. When he voiced his concerns, Porkchop only gave him a sly grin. 

"Monkey and Lani went back to the hotel," Wylde said, rolling his eyes. "Radioed ahead to let us know."

Tork raised his eyebrows, and shook his head with a smile. Well, she was already pregnant; what other mischief could they possibly get into? In any case, he was sure they'd be fine. But Tork wished he could say the same for his cousin.

"I'm sorry tonight turned out like it did, you guys," he said. "Nona's usually so calm about stuff. I just don't know what came over her."

Demitri and Anya had cruised by the parking lot just as most of the Maniacs were leaving, figuring they'd be just in time for the second set, but had received the news from Porkchop. Demitri couldn't say he was broken up about the whole ordeal, but he was disappointed that things were falling apart in his leave of absence. He couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened; he felt that if his judgment hadn't been clouded by his head injury, that he definitely would've left Anya in charge rather than Jimmy.

Anya was a highly respected member of their circle and no one ever messed with her. If Anya had been left in charge, she would have kept an eye on things and mediated any problems the others may have had. But, as it happened, Anya had _not_ been left in charge, Jimmy was on his way to the hospital, Nona was God only knew where, and Demitri and Anya were at Pietro's Diner, having coffee and donuts and sitting with old friends.

The jangle of a small bell signaled more customers.

"Vlad, three strawberry milkshakes and three baklavas, heavy on the whipped cream," Mikki said in a fatigued voice. He held the door open for Vert and the Major, catching their eyes in turn. "Now, let's hear that again and see if we can't see what by the power of Grayskull is going on here."

"Was that whipped cream on the milkshakes or whipped cream on the baklava?"

"If the answer to that question isn't 'both' then I've lost my will to live."

Vlad shrugged with his usual detached compliance, but the next bell that tinkled at the door swinging open grabbed his attention for some reason, and the Amazon blonde bombshells that entered the diner directly ahead of a new brunette answered why. He knew why that bell had snatched him up, why his eyes were wide, why his palms were sweating; the reason why was the same as every other time before that one.

"Hallo, Vladchik, darling," Tasha said. Her voice had this strange, incredibly sexy quality to it, somehow bubbly and husky at the same time. Just the same as her older sister's voice, it drove him wild. The two elder Onoprienko sisters knew this, of course, and used it to their full advantage every time they saw him. Tasha started it first with that dazzling smile, and then Lexi hit him with those bedroom eyes. At a majestic seven feet and two inches, Lexi Onoprienko had the graceful proportions of a ballerina and the face of an angel. Her sisters, Tasha and Anya were similarly blessed at the only slightly less imposing heights of six feet-eleven inches and six feet-ten inches, their lithe figures having gorgeous curves in all the right places. Of course, having been friends with Anya for so long, he never looked at her like she looked at Lexi and Tasha, and after all, she was Demitri's girlfriend. But Lexi and Tasha were possibilities.

_Bring on that pecan pie!  
Pour some sugar on it, sugar  
Don't be shy  
_

**Scoop me up a mess of that chocolate swirl  
Don't be stingy, I'm a growing girl  
**  
_**I offer -  
Big love with no apology  
How can I deny the world the most of me?  
I am not afraid to throw my weight around  
Pound by pound by pound **_

**_Because We're  
Big, blonde and beautiful  
Face the fact, it's simply irrefutable  
No one wants a meal that only offers the least  
When girl, we're serving up the whole damn feast_**

Karma watched in amazement while Lexi and Tasha charmed their way to free meal. Vlad had an intoxicated expression on his face, following the movements of the two girls as they stepped gracefully up to the counter and took two stools.

_Slice me off a piece of that cheesecake, please  
And take a look inside your book of recipes  
_

**Now don't you sniff around for something fluffy and light  
We need a man who brings a man-sized…appetite!**

_I'll use a pinch of sugar and a dash of spice  
I'll let you lick the spoon because it tastes so nice_

**We'll keep it in the oven 'til it's good and hot  
And keep on stirring 'til it hits the spot**

"Th-th-thyat was one slice pecan pie, one order chocolate swirl, two cheesecake, r-right?"Vlad asked with a bashful expression.

"That's right," Tasha said, stroking his face.

"And hurry up with that, okay, Vladchik?" they whispered softly. Both sisters leaned over the counter and each kissed him on one cheek. Vlad turned a very deep shade of red as they backed off. Unable to form words, he nodded enthusiastically and turned towards the kitchen. He tripped, fell flat on his face, rose to his feet an even deeper shade of red, brushed himself off, and ran through the kitchen doors.

"You two are a disgrace," Anya chided. "You know he likes you, but you just keep using him!"

"Spoken like a girl who pays full price," Tasha said dryly, and Lexi laughed.

When the elder Onoprienkos came to visit, Vlad never ever charged them. Ever. He made his friends pay for their meals every time, save for a few dollars here and there when times were tough, but he never charged Lexi or Tasha for anything.

Mikki sniggered while he passed this information on to Vert and Jack at their booth, watching Lexi flirt with Porkchop out of the corner of his eye. A scary thought suddenly occurred to him when his brother and father noticed the pair as well, looking somewhat amused. Mikki cringed slightly and whispered to them.

"Man, they would have some really tall, really hairy kids," he said, and Jack had stifle a laugh. Mikki sneered and turned in his seat. "Right, Angie? Angie?"

He stood, turning back and forth to get a better view of his surroundings. "Dude, where's Angie?" he asked in a slightly panicked tone.

"I, uh, I spoke to him before we left the parking lot," Vert said. "He seemed a little off—"

"Off? Off how?! What do you mean by off?!"

"He was worried about the band breaking up. He just kind of, I don't know, smiled really sad and walked away before I could stop him."

"He told me he was catching a ride with Demitri and Anya," Mikki said disbelievingly. The pair in question shook their heads and questioned each other with their eyes.

"We never even saw him tonight."

"Mikki, relax. He's probably fine."

"What if he didn't take his medication tonight?" he asked in a far away voice. "Angie has Advanced Delusional Schizophrenia. A traumatic night like tonight could bring on a psychotic break. He might start setting fires again. Or even if he did take his Clozaril—"

"Clozaril?"

"It's a schedule two antipsychotic. If he _did_ take it, that could be even worse in certain situations! It makes him really sleepy, Vert! What if he's sleeping on the streets? He could get robbed, or kidnapped, or—"

"Mikki," Jack said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You need to calm down. If your friend is in trouble, you won't be of any help to him like this."

Mikki nodded, staring at the floor. He sat down in the booth and hugged his knees to his chest.

"Good. Now, really, I think you're overreacting. He probably just wanted to be alone for a while. I'm sure he'll turn up in the morning."

Storm clouds seemed to wash over the surface of Mikki's eyes, reflecting the darkness he felt within.

* * *

A/N: Believe it or not, I'm already halfway through the next chapter, so I promise you won't have to wait a month this time. And as always, read and review! LURVE! 


	17. No Place Like Vegas

A/N: Well, what did I tell you? That definitely took less than a month! Anyway, I'm at my Aunt's house, and these are all family members I don't particularly care for, so, here I am on the great wide net. I'm also half way through the next chapter, too! I know pretty much how I want the story to end, so I can almost certainly gaurantee an epilogue in seven chapters or less. I say seven, because, knowing me, I'll probably stretch it out to eternity, but at least I will finish it.

**Soundtrack:** "No Place Like London," from the musical Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street by Steven Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler.

* * *

Angie walked on, though he knew not exactly where he was. He wasn't even sure of the time, but he didn't care. He just had to get away from the rest of them. He knew he could trust Mikki to get his van, Morrison, to a safe place.

The streets were empty, and almost preternaturally dark, for he was in North Vegas, the slummy part of the city the tourists never saw. Angie was about as far away from the hustle and bright lights of the strip as he could get, and that was just fine with him.

'_They won't miss you anyway, you sniveling whelp,'_ an artificially sweet voice like antifreeze taunted from the shadows. _'Pathetic beast; wretched,__ stupid__ little animal…'_

Angie whimpered and increased his pace. He held his arms protectively over his chest. The drummer slowed momentarily to step over a puddle, and froze in horror at the pretty face peering up at him.

'_Angelo David Halloran, you pay attention when your mother is speaking to you,'_ she growled. Her cold blue eyes, so much like his own, mocked him, and Angie broke into a run. Evil laughter echoed from behind him.

'_Angelo, baby, why don't you talk to me?'_

"Leave me alone!!" he said, huffing and puffing. Angie stopped in an alley, holding his hands over his ears. "No, no, no! You're not real! You can't hurt me anymore!"

'_I'm as real as you are, Angelo,'_ she said in a sinister voice. _'I'm a part of you, lurking on the slimy underside of your lizard brain, flowing through your veins, and ingrained in exactly one half of your genetic code.'_

"NO!"

'_And you'll never escape me.'_

"Shut up!! I already escaped you! You went to prison and you'll stay there!"

'_Deep down, Angelo, I think we really are alike. Like Mother, like son.'_

"Get out of my head!!" He fumbled for the prescription bottle in his pocket, popping a double dose of Clozaril. Angie slid down to the ground with his back against the wall, held his knees to his chest and began to softly cry. It was all the drummer could do to keep it together; he tried like hell to think happy thoughts, to remember his friends—

'_Your __friends?__ HA! You have no friends. A friend is someone who loves you very deeply, but who could love a thing like you?!'_

Angie could feel cold eyes upon him; a thousand cold and disappointed eyes, boring into the top of his skull like diamond-tipped drills.

'_It's for the best that you're alone, really. After all, with the things you've done, the buildings you've burned—'_

"I only did that because you hated this place," he sobbed. "You said you wished it would all just burn to the ground…"

The specter of Cecilia Halloran glared daggers at her son. _'And we must do all we can to please Mommy Dearest, yes? You disgust me, you waste of space. You always did whatever I told you to, always hoping that I would love you, no matter how uncommonly clear I made it that you should never have been born. Always doing what you're told, never questioning. They use you, and they'll all use you, until you're all used up! And you know what happens then.'_

He shook his head, cowering, and she grinned evilly.

'_That's right!!'_ she said in vicious triumph. _'Back to the padded cell. You'll spend the rest of your life in a rubber room and this time you won't have that suicidal, over-pierced, lousy poet of a street racer to keep you company. This is a cold, cruel world in which we're living, boy. Only the strong will survive. This city will devour you as it devoured me, Angelo. It will chew you up and spit you out. It's nature's way._

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit  
and the vermin of the world inhabit it  
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit  
and it goes by the name of Vegas_

_At the top of the hole sit the privileged few  
Making mock of the vermin in the lonely zoo  
Turning beauty into filth and greed and you  
Know I have sailed the world and seen its wonders,  
For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru  
But there's no place like Vegas!_

Angie curled up behind the dumpster in the back of an alley on the north side of Las Vegas, breathing softly as the worry melted slowly away. But still, as he left the waking world, he heard her taunting him. Her chanting filled his ears as he drifted off to sleep.

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit  
And it's filled with people who are filled with shit  
And the vermin of the world inhabit it_

* * *

Lani snuggled into his arms, giggling like a school girl. Around three hours before, the pair of them had been at Dino's Bar & Grille, but when the cops came, they decided to go back to the hotel. The others wouldn't miss them, right?

Monkey snickered, leaving a trail of light kisses from his lover's belly button up to her neck. "My pretty darling," he sighed, holding her tight. He ran his hands across her soft skin, and she shivered in his arms.

"Oh, Monkey…"

For nearly this entire three hours, the young lovers had been alone together, in their room, working up a sweat.

He kissed her again, and she ran her fingers through his short red hair. They laid still, warmly content in one another's embrace. Monkey sighed, a smile playing on his lips, though Lani could not see it in the darkness. He was happy to be there with her, but he was also so scared. He was more afraid than he had actually been in quite some time. But he knew what he wanted, he knew what was right, and he was at least fairly certain of what was for the best, so Monkey figured he was probably headed in the right direction. Maybe.

"I love you so much, Lani," he started carefully. "I really do love you. And I don't mean that 'stuck with each other, better make the best of it' love. You're so beautiful," he said, pausing to kiss her neck. With each new accolade, he did this.

"And intelligent."

Kiss.

"And kind."

Kiss.

Lani shuddered, leaning closer to his body. She stared into his eyes, smiling softly up at him. "I love you, too."

"Did you know I fell in love with you that first night?" he asked. "I did. Right there, after the Storm Realm, we were fixing up what was left of our cars and you caught me staring at you. You seemed kind of creeped out, and I said you had grease under your fingernails."

She snickered at him. "But, Monkey, I was wearing gloves…"

He smiled sheepishly, snuggling deeper next to her. "Yeah, I know. I was just so stunned at how gorgeous you were. I was only staring at you."

"You're such a goofball."

"But that's why you love me," he said confidently. Lani let her head rest on her lover's chest, warm and safe in his arms. "Listen, I've been thinking, Lani. I love you, and we're having this baby anyway, so, maybe…"

Lani lifted her head to look at him inquisitively. In her eyes, Monkey saw his future passing before him and had to fight down a sudden fear that he hoped wasn't visible on his face.

"Maybe…maybe we should get married?"

"What?!" Lani was in shock. She loved Monkey and was having his child, but she was still caught off guard by the suggestion. She honestly expected Monkey to make a break for it when he heard the news, but he really stepped up to plate on this one. He was taking responsibility.

Monkey gazed into her eyes, just a hint of nervous fear on his features. "Lani Tam, will you marry me?"

Still shocked, Lani didn't say anything for a long time, but finally, she snapped out of it and kissed Monkey passionately. Their bodies entwined into one, and they rocked together for the second time that night.

When they parted nearly two hours later, exhausted, Monkey let one arm hang over his lady love and smiled coyly.

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes, Monkey," she said, and gave his hand a light squeeze. "Of course I'll marry you."

* * *

Tezla peered down the corridor, first in one direction, and then the other; he didn't want his AcceleRacers to see him with his suitcase. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he strode boldly up to his room, reached for the handle, was about to open the door, and then—

"Where have you been?"

Dr. Peter Tezla nearly jumped out of his skin at the bright orange eyes that stared up at him. Mel stood beside the doorway, her fangs glittering in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the resort hallway.

"Where have you been?" she repeated. "I was worried."

"Now, Melissa, why on earth would you worry about me? I was sure none of the others would even notice I was gone."

"Exactly. That's why I have to worry enough for all of us."

Tezla smiled; such a sweet girl. It was a shame she had gotten mixed up with those Metal Maniacs. "Well, as you can see, I'm fine, so, goodbye for now." He finally got the door open but suddenly stumbled and struggled with the weight of his suitcase. Using her lightning-fast reflexes, Mel caught and hefted the offending piece of luggage with no trouble at all, and helped Tezla into his room. He thanked her.

"It was nothing," she said brightly. "But there's still one thing I don't get."

"Yes?"

"The people at the front desk told us where you were," she started. "Why in the hell would you want to go to some stupid ranch where they raise rabbits?"

Dr. Tezla froze, blushing, his eyes wide. "Well, I, um—that is to say…" He paused and cleared his throat. "Under Nevada state law, any county with a population of less than 400,000 is allowed to license brothels if it so chooses. The Moonlite Bunny Ranch, located at 69 Moonlight Road in Mound House, is in Lyon County, and the population of this county was around 35,000 at the last census, so…"

Mel stared at him, her mind unable comprehend exactly what she was hearing. After she blinked a few times, Mel scoffed and looked at Dr. Tezla with obvious distaste. "Wait, wait, wait, just wait a minute!!" she said. "Are you telling me the Bunny Ranch is a…a brothel?"

"A very upscale brothel," he mumbled, blushing, and pushed past her. Mel shuddered in disgust as he slammed the door behind him, and did the best she could to erase the conversation from her memory. Perhaps she would take in a show on the lobby floor, or visit the arcade…

* * *

A/N: Okay, eww. Am I right? Tezla,you naughty boy. Who knew he was such a dirty old man? I mean, besides me...


	18. Dry Your Eyes

A/N: Less than a month!! HA! Told ya. However, I can make no guarantees on the next chapter, as I am feeling a bit stuck. Ah well.

**Soundtrack:** "Angie" by the Rolling Stones.

* * *

**Angie, Angie, when will those clouds all disappear?  
Angie, Angie, where will it lead us from here?  
With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats  
You can't say we're satisfied  
But Angie, Angie, you can't say we never tried**

Mikki sat on the edge of his couch, glaring at the cell phone on the surface of his coffee table. In that moment, he hated his cell phone more than anything; more than the older children who picked on him at Madame Olga's Maximum Security Orphanage, more than the food at Madame Olga's, and even more than the obnoxious old bat, Madame Olga, herself. Mikki abhorred his phone so much for two simple reasons:

It was not ringing, and the caller ID was not displaying Angie's number.

**Angie, you're beautiful, but ain't it time we said goodbye?  
Angie, I still love you, remember all those nights we cried  
All the dreams we held so close seemed to all go up in smoke  
Let me whisper in your ear  
Angie, Angie, where will it lead us from here?**

**Oh, Angie, don't you weep, your heart of hearts is just so sweet  
I hate that sadness in your eyes  
Angie, Angie, I could never say good-bye  
**

The blonde sank into a deep despair, and into the cushions of his couch, as he wondered where Angie could possibly be. No one had seen their favorite little drummer boy since Saturday night, and now it Tuesday was there to stay. The absolute gloom that enshrouded their apartment over Ostrog & Co. Garage was undeniable. Angie had always seemed to brighten the place up with his constant babble, the way he flipped channels so fast he couldn't possible know what was actually _on,_ practiced his drumming at ungodly hours—_before_noon!—cleaned their apartment compulsively and still ate like a total slob. It was true that Angie could sometimes be a nuisance, but Mikki loved the little tyke. It was like having a puppy, except more independent.

**With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats  
You can't say we're satisfied  
But Angie, I still love you, Baby, everywhere I look I see your eyes  
There ain't nobody who comes close to you, come on baby, dry your eyes  
**

The truth was Angie was more of a brother to Mikki than he could consider Vert. They had been together for so long, ever since that fateful summer when, though they never knew each other, they both lost their grip on life and ended up in the same rubber room.

Mikki rolled over on the couch, taking off his spiked leather bracelets, and held up his arm over his face. The scars were still there, just like they had been for nearly just over five years, just like they always would be. Thick white scars ran across each wrist, a haunting reminder of the slippery slope he had tumbled down.

**But Angie, Angie, ain't it good to be alive?  
Angie, Angie, they can't say we never tried…**

* * *

Stitches and bandages sealed up the deep cuts across his wrists now, cuts he himself had made barely a week before. Thirteen year old Mikki Kalishnikova was being transported from Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Hospital to a youth psychiatric center for observation, and for his own protection. He was not being protected from any outside danger, however, but from himself. He had attempted to end his own life for reasons that even he did not understand, and that he would not understand for many years.

Mikki did not understand why he felt so alone in the world. He only had a small number of friends, it was true, but they were close friends, better than the family he never had. It was also true that he lived in an orphanage on the edge of Little Moscow in Las Vegas, but this never bothered him before. At least, not a tremendous lot; after all, his best friend and protector, Demitri Ostrog lived there, too, and it was through Demitri that he had established deeper connections with other people.

And now, on top of all this adolescent confusion, he had to share his room with some nutty little brunette named Angelo Halloran. It wouldn't have been so bad if the kid would just _shut up_for five minutes! Even as Mikki attempted to work through his issues, Angelo Halloran made him long for the blade all the more. He was blathering on again now, saying something about Barstow Sands not being so bad. Mikki rolled his eyes; if Angelo believed that, he really _was_ crazy.

Finally, he could take it no longer. "Do you ever stop talking?!" he snapped. "At _all?!_ What's wrong with you anyways, you idiotic little snot?!"

Angelo cowered on his bunk, backing towards the soft wall of their padded cell, and sulked. He held his knees to his chest.

"Well, you wouldn't shut up," Mikki grumbled without apology. "You just wouldn't stop. I'm trying to get a little peace here, and you're driving me crazy…"

Mikki trailed off, and the room fell silent. They sat like that for almost an hour, and the absolute quiet was unbearable. Why didn't Angelo say anything? Mikki began to wish that he would speak, that some stupid orderly would come in and break the silence. Why was he even in this…this loony bin? Mikki wanted to be with his friends so very badly; they understood him better than these doctors ever could, and still he had tried to...to…do _that,_ and… God, what was he even _doing_ there? Didn't they know people _went_ crazy in these places?

Mikki ran his fingers through his hair and kept his palms on the top of his head to inspect the bandages on his wrists. He wondered what would happen if he took them off and ripped out the stitches. Presently, Mikki became aware of a sniffling noise, and he realized that Angelo was crying.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, but Angelo turned from him and faced the wall. He called again, but the brunette only sobbed loudly and curled into a tight little ball on the bed. Feeling suddenly very guilty about what he had said, Mikki walked across the small cell and sat on the floor next to his bunk mate. He carefully reached out to pat Angelo on the shoulder, but the boy recoiled, his bright and fevered eyes echoing with years of pain and humiliation. Mikki stared at him in shock and wonder.

"Angelo," he said a little more loudly, bringing his hand back to his side. "Angelo, what's wrong?"

"Please don't yell at me," he said through the tears. "I'm sorry, I'll be quiet. I'll be a good boy, please, just don't hit me, don't yell at me…I'll be good, I promise!!"

"Angelo—"

"And don't call me that name!!" he abruptly shouted. "I hate that name! It's the name _she_ gave me!! She only even said it when she was going to beat me or lock me away!!"

Mikki's eyebrows knitted together as he watched the boy, and, very slowly, he reached towards Angelo's terrified face. He backed away again, but not as quickly or as far, and Mikki gently stroked his knuckles down the older—but smaller and weaker—boy's cheek, wiping away his tears.

"Oh, Angie," he said softly. "What did she do to you?"

* * *

Mikki stood out on his fire escape, staring at the ground below; he felt completely detached from his body, as if in a dream. Mikki was hardly aware of what was taking place as he slowly climbed up, standing tall on the railing. The fall would not kill him, he reasoned. He was, after all, only three stories up. A part of him wanted to die, wanted so desperately for the pain to end, but as his vision began to tunnel down so that he noticed only the pavement below, Mikki shook his head and went back into his apartment with chills running down his back. For a moment, he had considered jumping, if only for the possible epiphany that comes with a serious injury and a hospital stay.

But here, Mikki had his great revelation. After getting to know him, Angie had become Mikki's reason to live. Since they met, he came to think of Angie as his little brother, despite the fact that Angie was older than him. But Mikki had Vert now, who was in fact his true little brother, if only by half an hour. Angie still needed Mikki, but Vert needed him now, too, and Mikki wasn't going to be of any use to either of them by languishing in a place that reminded him only of Angie.

"That's it!" he said aloud, lightly slapping his own cheeks. "This is no time to brood and stare into the abyss. The only way I can help Angie is to be with him, and the only way I can do that is if I bring him home."

Mikki scribbled a quick note, stating that he was out looking for Angie and how to get a hold of him in case of an Angie sighting. Grabbing his black trench coat, he made for the door, but turned back to grab his studded leather bracelets. He replaced them to his wrists to cover up his scars, and opened his front door with the note in his hand.

As Mikki flung open the door, he was momentarily blinded by the morning sunlight, and did not notice the blonde figure he was about to ram into. The pair struggled not to fall down the stairs. Vert sat up in his stark white racing jacket, grabbing Mikki's hand before he tumbled down the steps.

"You startled me," Mikki snapped, getting to his feet. He unceremoniously stepped over his twin and taped the note to the outside of the door before making sure it was locked.

Vert blinked in surprise, watching as his twin ignored him and went down the stairs towards the streets below. Of course, Mikki had yet to tell him of the incident on the fire escape, nor would he probably ever, but he could tell something was wrong.

"Dude, are you okay?" he asked, but Mikki was already halfway down the street. "Dude! Dude, wait up!!"

Vert sprinted to Mikkis's side before he could get too far away. "Mikki, are you okay? Talk to me, man!"

"I'm going to look for Angie, Vert," he said, without turning to face his brother. "You can follow along if you want to but don't bug me. This is going to take some detective work."

"Detective work?"

Mikki's eyes were cold blue steel as he gave Vert the agenda for that day; first stop was the neighborhood Dino's was in, and then they would walk from there, because Morrison was still parked, meaning Angie must be on foot. The music store Jimmy worked in was in the same area, and Nona's mother's daycare center wasn't far from there. If they asked the right questions of the right people, with a little luck, Angie might just turn up.

"I'm going to find him, Vert. He needs me."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, sooo...that's that chapter. God, I feel like I was going to say something here, but I forget. Huh.


	19. Spiritual Assistance

A/N: Okay, so some random silliness at the end that really influenced the name of the chapter. I got bored with all the darkness and decided to spice things up a bit, I guess, and this is what happened. OMG!! I saw the new Martin Scorsese documentary about the Rolling Stones. Scorsese also did The Last Waltz, which was the Band's final concert, and he definitely lived up to my expectations. It was just phenomenal. Kieth Richards and Ronnie Wood are looking good, Charlie Watts looks like a normal guy next to the other Stones, and Mick Jagger may be in his late sixties, but he still bounces around the stage looking hotter than spring chickens a third his age!!

**Soundtrack:** "Season of the Witch;" Donovan.

* * *

The strings of a sitar greeted Vert's ears as he crossed the threshold of Kashmir Sound, the music store where St. Jimmy worked weekdays. It was filled from wall to wall with music, movies, and even a selection of comic books, and the air smelled strongly of patchouli and sandalwood.

"Welcome, cosmic brothers," slurred a tremendously hairy middle aged man in a dashiki and an ancient pair of jeans. He was laughing uncontrollably, and after a moment, he seemed to recognize Mikki, but the sight of Vert threw him for a loop. "Whoa, this must be some primo stuff! I do believe I see two of you, oh Agent of Darkness."

Mikki rolled his eyes. "He's my twin, Harold. Did Jimmy come in today?"

"Ah, for sooth, the Purple Haired One is in yonder DVD section, alphabetizing the concert films."

Mikki muttered thanks to the aging hippy and pulled Vert along.

"What's with him?"

"He smokes pot."

Sure enough, another employee was in fact alphabetizing the concert DVDs and they had to search through the entire store. The pair was side tracked here and there, of course; a special edition DVD of the 1999 X-Games here, a collectible action figure of Brandon Lee as The Crow there, but eventually, they managed to locate St. Jimmy at the cash register…Behind the counter, in plain sight of where they had walked in twenty minutes before.

The guitarist did not notice them until they were upon him, calling his name. St. Jimmy looked up from the computer screen. He was more than a little surprised to see Mikki, as he would have been to see any of his friends.

Mikki was very close to both Nona and St. Jimmy, and he was the last person expected to show up at the shop.

"If Nona sent you here to beg for forgiveness, don't waste your breath," he said. "She's dead to me."

Jimmy's eyes were still red around the rims from what happened, but Mikki glared at him. The boy looked grim as ever in his thick eyeliner and black trench coat, but there was still a look in his eyes that frightened Jimmy more than he liked to admit. "What's up, Mikki?" he asked.

Mikki wasted no time on pleasantries. "Have you gotten a call from Angie?" he asked.

Of all the Foundlings and Lost Boys, not a one of them had had any contact with each other. It was a common secret fear, it seemed, that if they came together so soon after Saturday night's incident, they were liable to take sides. The group was in danger of splitting into factions of those who supported Jimmy, feeling sympathy for his injuries, and those who supported Nona, feeling sympathy for her unrequited love.

Unfortunately, this meant that Jimmy had completely ignored any and all calls over the weekend and only passed on information second hand through Boots, Whitey, Lexi and Tasha. He ignored everyone else…for the sake of the band.

"No, I haven't heard from him," he said, and then smirked. "What wacky misadventures has our hero gotten into this week?"

"I wouldn't know," Mikki said, gnashing his teeth. "I haven't seen him since Saturday night. He never came home."

"What?"

"The Teku and the Metal Maniacs haven't heard from him, either," Vert said sadly. "Are you sure you haven't seen him around anywhere?"

St. Jimmy shook his head sadly. "No; no, I haven't. Oh, man, you think he's alright?"

"I hope so," Mikki trailed off, retreating into his own head. Where could the drummer be? Was he taking his medication? Had some creepy old man snatched him from the streets, never to be seen again? The possibilities were both sickening and endless.

Jimmy scrolled through his caller ID, hoping that perhaps Angie had buzzed him, when Harold popped from around a corner, stumbling slightly. A silly grin still adorned his face, and he smiled at the young men. "I see you found each other, cosmic brothers," he said with a chuckle. "Isn't it a beautiful day for peace and love in this and every universe?"

"I'm glad you think so," Mikki snarled, and regaled the tale of the missing drummer for Harold. The old hippy immediately lost his silly demeanor and clapped Jimmy on the shoulders.

"What are you standing around here for, Purple Haired One?" he exclaimed. "He of the Voices is in dire need, man! Go to him!"

"What? But, Harold, my shift doesn't end until—"

"Kid, trust me, you won't be missed," he said. "Besides, this is a serious matter that needs to be put right. Dude, like seriously."

Jimmy smiled and ran off to grab his things from the break room. "Thanks, boss," he said with a nod, and followed Vert and Mikki out the door.

"It's great to have you, Jimmy," Vert said. "We've been looking for Angie all morning."

"And the next stop," Mikki said, "is Grigori's shop."

"We're consulting the spirits?!" Jimmy cried in surprise.

"It couldn't hurt," Mikki said, and thus did the pair become a trio.

* * *

"You, know, I'm suddenly not so sure about this…"

"You came to me of your own free will, my friend," Grigori said. "But now that we have started, I must insist we continue. The spirits have already been disturbed and will not take kindly to their message being ignored."

Nolo swallowed and forced himself to look down at the round table. The uniform ornamental designs on the backs of the tarot cards stared back up at him, ten cards in a Celtic cross. The leader of the Teku had come to Grigori Tivarusky's shop to have his fortune told, but he was suddenly afraid he wouldn't like what he heard. Nolo shook his head; it was all fun and games. It wasn't real…right?

"Do you wish for me to continue?"

Nolo nodded, and the Gypsy turned over the cards before him.

"The Knight of Swords represents rushing ahead foolishly," he said, smiling to himself, and flipped over another card. "But in conjunction with the High Priestess, which represents calmness and an inner voice, this means you are following your gut and your faith."

Nolo blinked, looking at the cards. "Is that good?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh, that's very good." Grigori said. "You may not know what lay ahead of you, but should you choose to face it, your friends will be there right with you. You will face it together, and that, my friend, is the best way to live."

"Let's keep going!" he said with a grin. "Now, what was it you said about my 'true love' last week?"

Grigori flipped more cards, with his soft and mysterious smile, and began to sing to himself.

**When I look out my window  
Many sights to see  
And when I look in my window  
So many different people to be  
That it's strange, so strange  
You've got to pick up every stitch  
You've got to pick up every stitch  
You've got to pick up every stitch  
Mm-hmm, must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch, yeah  
Must be the season of the witch**

Nolo got chills as he watched Grigori flip over more cards. He gasped; the Death card!!

"The Death card doesn't necessarily mean an actual death," Grigori said, calming him. "Sometimes only a great change. With the other cards we have here on the table, I'd say your life is about to take a complete one-eighty from where you thought you would be, but this change is for the better."

Nolo nodded, though he wished he was as confident as the fortune teller, and Grigori began to sing again.

**When I look over my shoulder  
What do you think I see  
Some other cat looking over  
His shoulder at me  
And he's strange, sure is strange  
You've got to pick up every stitch  
You've got to pick up every stitch, yeah  
Beatniks are out to make it rich  
Oh no, must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch, yeah  
Must be the season of the witch**

**You've got to pick up every stitch  
The rabbits running in the ditch  
Beatniks are out to make it rich  
Oh no, must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch  
Where'd I go…?**

Grigori gently guided Nolo's hand to the final card and told him to think happy thought before he flipped it over. "This final card is the signifigator," he whispered. "This is you taking charge of your own destiny."

**When I look out my window  
What do you think I see?  
And when I look in my window  
So many different people to be  
It's strange**

_Sure is strange…_

**You've got to pick up every stitch  
You've got to pick up every stitch  
The rabbits running in the ditch  
Oh no, must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch, yeah  
Must be the season of the witch  
Where'd I go, where'd I go…?**

"The Chariot; wealth, willpower, recognition, bravery victory, and pride."

The front door of the shop banged open, and Nolo jumped in his seat. He glared and rolled his eyes when he realized it was Vert and his two companions. "Hey, Vert," he said, annoyed and embarrassed. "Goth Vert; St. Jimmy."

"That's _Mikki."_

"Whatever."

"What seems to be the trouble?" Grigori asked, noting the expressions on their faces. These three boys were men on a mission. They quickly told the fortune teller of Angie's failure to return home since Saturday and he nodded grimly.

"This is very bad," Grigori said, stroking his goatee. "Angie is a delicate child; he might not last long on his own."

"So you haven't heard from him, then?" Mikki asked, the hope leaving his voice.

"I'm afraid not, Mikki. I just wish there was something I could do to help…"

Grigori continued to stroke his goatee with two fingers, deep in thought. "Where would the little drummer boy go? Where would Angie feel safe…?"

Nolo gasped once more, Vert, Mikki, and St. Jimmy following his gaze. A rather large Ouija board had floated off of a nearby shelf and was hovering about four feet off the ground. Grigori murmured something and finally noticed the floating Ouija board, groaning.

"You stop that!" he exclaimed, pointing at the board in annoyance. "You are frightening my customers!!"

"The little finder thing is moving," Nolo said. He had only seen his brother in very intense situations, and perhaps he could only make his presence known at certain times. In any case, the Teku leader hoped he was right. "Maybe the spirits are trying to tell us something…"

4-1-1, the board spelled out.

"Information?" Grigori asked incredulously. "You know where Angie has been?"

W-O-O-D-L-A-W-N

Mikki's eyes brightened with hope and confusion. "That's a graveyard three miles from here!!"

"That makes sense; Angie once told me any burial ground was the safest place to be at night. Everyone's too superstitious to trespass in the dark."

"So, he's in the cemetery!"

The indicator moved to the "no" option, and Mikki's shoulders sunk. He ran his hands through his hair. This was ridiculous; he just could not believe it was possible to sink so low. "Then where the hell is he now?!" he shouted, and the indicator glided across the board to spell out its answer.

C-L-O-S-E

Angie was close by. That much Mikki was certain of, at least if the board wasn't lying.

Nolo stared at the board that levitated a few feet from him, still in shock. After a little while, he found his voice again. "Tone?" he asked tentatively, and the indicator spelled out an answer.

S-A-T-A-N

Nolo yelped, grabbed his jacket, and bolted for the door. He muttered to himself in Spanish about knowing this was a mistake and did the sign of the cross over his chest. Inside, the other boys stared shocked at the still floating Ouija board as it reverted to text talk.

OMG LMAO

The spirit, whoever it was, was someone who had died within the last few years. Grigori burst out laughing, but Mikki didn't find their situation very funny. "I'm glad you think this is so freakin' hilarious, Grigori, but how the hell are we supposed to find Angie now?!"

P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E

"I don't wanna be patient, dammit!!" he screamed. "What, you think Angie is just going to suddenly call us?!"

An annoying little version of "Alive and Amplified" by the Mooney Suzuki issued from the pocket of St. Jimmy's bomber jacket. "Moshi moshi," he said, with a surprised and confused look on his face. A quiet voice was on the other line, but he could hear loud, jeering voices echoing around him. "Angie?"

Mikki whirled around to look at Jimmy, and the board spelled LOL.

"Okay, just…just calm down!" he said. "Where are you?"

"I tried to call Mikki, but he's not answering. Jimmy…do you think he's angry with me?"

"Mikki loves you like a brother, Angie," he said and covered the mouth piece with his hand. "Mikki, why aren't you answering Angie's calls?"

"What? He hasn't…" Mikki rummaged through his pockets. _Idiot!_ He went back for his bracelets and forgot his cell phone on the table. "I don't have my cell with me—"

St. Jimmy held up a hand to stop him, listening to his drummer with wide eyes. He nodded frantically. "Of course." We'll be right there." He hung up. "Angie's on the roof at Dino's."

"What?!"

"Let's motor," Mikki said, and pulled Vert along on the way out the door.

Inside the Rhythm of Life fortune telling shop, Grigori shook his head, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. "God speed, boys."

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if that was Tone or a poltergeist or what. I just felt compelled to have that there. No idea why... Anyway, It was fun to write, but I'm not done yet. I have a few more to go. The next chapter will be a "meanwhile" thing, I think. Something taking place during what just happened here, but somewhere else.

I'm hungry. I think I'll go get some of that left over ham out of the fridge and fry it up.


	20. Survival of the Fittest

A/N: I took way too long updating again, and I'm sorry, but it wasn't my fault! I had issues with my blood sugar. I may have accidentally taken a double dose of my medication, and I was hospitalized last Wednesday because of it. But I'm better now.

**Soundtrack:**"Whipping Post," by The Allman Brothers Band; "I Will Survive," by Gloria Gaynor.

* * *

"Yay! Cousin Tork came to visit!"

"Come play with us, Tork!!"

Tork smiled at the group of small children who gathered eagerly around his hulking frame, innocent and completely unafraid. Only at his aunt's daycare center, Musical Chairs Daycare, could he get such a reaction out of any person, regardless of age. These were children who had been here when he came to visit two years before and were old enough to remember him. Tork was a real tough guy, but what could he say? He had a soft spot for kids.

"Not right now," he told them, apologizing. "I have to talk to Nona right now. It's very important."

The children groaned sadly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, a look with the collective power to break even the mighty Tork Maddox's heart. "Tell ya what," he said, looking them in their cute little faces; "if you promise to be real good, I'll come play with you tomorrow, okay?"

"Hooray!!" Tork was swarmed by the little munchkins, so full of playful affection they could not help but hug a Metal Maniac. He chuckled happily, hugging them back, and a skinny one with frizzy hair and freckles grabbed his hand.

Tork allowed the small child to lead him to his cousin, though he was perfectly aware of the music room's location; after all, he'd been coming to Las Vegas every other summer for the better part of his life, and often helped out at the daycare center. Some of his best times were spent simply looking after little kids who needed a place to stay while their parents were at work. One thing he had learned, however, was to let them be 'helpful' because it made them feel important.

"Miss Nona, Miss Nona! Tork said he needs to talk to you!!" The little boy said it as if he were delivering a message vital to his nation's war effort, and Tork smiled down at him as he was led into the music room. He thanked the kid who grinned and ran back to the fenced in playground where his friends were waiting.

Nona looked up at her cousin, and smiled. She wasn't really happy to see him, or anyone who attended their gig at Dino's on Saturday night, but at least he wasn't a cop. She still hadn't spoken to any of her friends in all this time, and she wasn't sure if St. Jimmy planned on pressing charges. Tork laughed when she told him this, but it was a sad, sorry sort of laugh.

"Why," he said, clearing his throat, "Why did you do that, anyway?"

Nona sighed, taking a few steps toward the window, and watching the children play in the afternoon sun.

"Nona? Are you all right?"

"It just hurt so much to sit back and watch him," she said, leaning against the window frame. "He spent almost every night with a new girl, some bimbo groupie he'd never see again. It never mattered how much I loved him."

_Loved_ him? Could she possibly be serious? "Nona, the last time I checked, the way to a man's heart is definitely not through a can of mace," he said dryly. "Why didn't you just ask him to stop?"

She sighed again. "I don't know, Tork; I just felt so deep down dog tired of it, and I guess I…"

"Snapped?"

"You have no idea how this feels," she said, tears edging past her long lashes.

_I've been run down, I've been lied to  
I don't know why I let that man make me a fool  
He took all my money, wrecked my new car  
Now he's with one of his goodtime buddies  
They're drinkin' in some cross-town bar_

_Sometimes I feel, Oh you know I feel  
Like I've been tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'_

Nona stared out the window at the small children playing on the jungle gym outside. She shook Tork's hand from her shoulder and crossed her arms, walking towards the other end of the room.

_My friends tell me that I've been such a fool  
And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you  
Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what you've down  
But nothin' seems to change, the bad times stay the same  
And I can't run_

_Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel  
Like I've been tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'_

Nona sobbed loudly.

_Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel  
Like I've been tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Tied to the whipping post  
Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'_

"Oh, sweetie," came a hushed voice from the doorway. It was Keesha Maddox, Nona's mother and Tork's aunt. "Oh, my baby girl, come here…"

Keesha entered the room, enfolding her daughter gently in her arms. Tork put a hand on Nona's shoulder to show his support as well and offered his little cousin a kind smile.

"I always knew that Edogawa kid was no good," Keesha admonished. She gently touched Nona's face. "You listen to me, Nona. If you love Jimmy, and he don't love you back, then, child, that is _his_ problem. Don't you worry none about him. Just forget all about that boy."

"You really think I should, Mama?" she asked softly.

"Baby girl, I don't just _think,_ I _know,_ okay?" She paused and sighed. "Nona, baby, I've been around the track a few times. I was in your shoes more than once. The worst time was about nineteen years ago now, and he…he hurt me so very badly."

* * *

Keesha Maddox shifted from foot to foot, singing softly as she tried to get her daughter ready for bed. The little girl had stopped fussing a few minutes before and was now drifting sweetly off into a slumber. She never had much trouble getting the little girl to sleep; Keesha loved her more than anything, and though she was barely a year old, Wynona Sharice Maddox understood that on a primal level and felt safe and warm in her mother's arms.

"Goodnight, Sweet Thing," she said softly, and gently placed the baby in her crib. It was tough being a single mother, raising a child on her own, but moments like these were Keesha's greatest reward. As she stepped into the hallway of her small apartment, she heard a knock at the door. And the man waiting beyond the threshold was someone she had both expected and hoped never to see again.

It was great shock to Keesha to find Peter Tezla standing there at her door with a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses and a hopeful smile. The pair of them had shacked up in a tawdry affair nearly two years prior, she a baby-faced twenty year-old showgirl with dreams of making it big, and he a wealthy older gentleman who promised her the world. It was a promise he broke the night he walked out on her. She almost could not believe he had the audacity to show up out the blue like that. Who did he think he was?

"Keesha, darling," Peter said pleasantly. "It's been far too long."

"Petey-boo?" she finally managed to ask after quite some time. She was still stunned at his sudden appearance, but Keesha's instincts quickly took over. Her shock turned to rage. She smiled at him, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him inside. She locked the door behind them.

Peter grinned a wolfish grin, congratulating himself. She was still in love with him! What luck! And here he was thinking she would be angry. But, as Keesha turned towards him, he learned how right he had been.

"You've got a lot of nerve just popping in unannounced," she said quietly, one hand on her hip. She was just as beautiful as she had been the day he left.

"Keesha, I didn't want to leave you for so long," he pled. "You know I love you—"

"Then why did you run away from me?!" she shouted. The hatred burning in her eyes was unbearable. He was thankful for her looking away from him, if only momentarily distracted by the cries of a baby. He took several steps toward her, taking her hands in his and kissing her gently.

"Keesha, I didn't have a choice," he said, his eyes begging for forgiveness. She slapped him hard across his face, and he stood there in complete bewilderment. She walked swiftly away from him. After a minute, he followed her, still dazed.

"Of course you had a choice. You could have stayed, or at least broken up with me in person. I came home from work, all your stuff was gone, and you didn't even leave me a note," she said, her back to him. "But I'm over all of that. I've left it behind me."

"Please, let me explain—"

She whirled around, her smoldering eyes burning into his soul.

**At first I was afraid, I was petrified  
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side  
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong  
And I grew strong, and I learned how to get along  
And so your back, from outta space  
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face  
I should have changed that stupid lock, I would have made you leave your key  
If I'd have known for just one second you'd be back to bother me**

**Go on now go, walk out the door  
Just turn around now 'cuz you're not welcome anymore  
Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?  
Did ya think I'd crumble?  
Did ya think I'd lay down and die?**

**Oh no not I, I will survive  
Oh as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give  
I'll survive, I will survive**

"Keesha, I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry—"

**It took all the strength I had not to fall apart  
I tried so hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart  
And I spent oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself  
I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high  
And you see me, somebody new  
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you  
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free  
But now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me**

"Keesha, I never stopped loving you," he said, but then the crying started up again. He had assumed it was coming from a neighboring apartment, but it sounded so close. "What was that? Is there a child here?"

The last thing she wanted was for him to find out that Nona was his. The baby would not prove that Peter loved her; only that he felt obligated. "I'm watching her for a friend," she quickly lied.

Keesha was deeply afraid; after all this time, Peter Tezla still loved her. She didn't know if she could handle the heartache. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, and she could never cry in front of him. Her only choice was to get rid of him.

**Go on now go, walk out the door  
Just turn around now 'cuz you're not welcome anymore  
Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye  
Did ya think I'd crumble?  
Did ya think I'd lay down and die?**

**Oh no not I, I will survive  
Oh as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give  
I'll survive, I will survive**

"Please, just give me another chance—"

Peter had followed her across the room, where Keesha violently yanked the door open. He was caught off guard, and it was an opportunity she fully exploited. In her days as a showgirl, Keesha had had to kick very high, and her legs were very strong. She placed her foot, clad in cute Grecian sandals, squarely on Peter's sternum and shoved. He landed in a heap across the hallway, gasping in pain, his glasses askew. She slammed the door shut again and locked it behind her.

**Oh no not I, I will survive  
Oh as long as I know how to loveI know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give  
I'll survive, I will survive**

* * *

"Whoa, hold up a minute," Tork said incredulously. "Tezla? Dr. Peter Tezla?!"

"Yeah, that was the bastard's name," she said, rolling her eyes. "Drops outta sight for nearly two years and just lands on my doorstep beggin' me to take him back like I'm some kinda fool. I asked him why he was gone so long, and you know what that jerk said? He said he was designing new weapons and vehicles for SHIELD. Yeah, right."

Tork informed his Aunt that he knew Tezla, and she stared at him inquisitively.

"How would you know Petey-boo? And even if you did, how would you come to know he was with SHIELD or not?"

"He needed drivers for his research, Auntie," he said.

"Is that how you lost your arm?" she asked in a flat tone. Tork looked out the window, the shame on his face as plain as day, and Keesha let out a strange and very angry sound, punching the wall. The children who had gathered around to hear the story scattered with frightened looks on their cute little faces. "Oh, Petey-boo, you dirty rat!!"

Nona smiled with a look of soft despair in her eyes. She still wasn't sure what to do, but, just then, her cell phone rang. The caller ID said that Angie was on the line. She answered it.

"Nona," he said softly. His voice was small and weak, but she could hear people shouting and laughing at him; not around him but at him. He sounded like he was surrounded. "I'm so scared, Nona…I just came up here to get some quiet time, but they saw me and now they won't leave me alone."

"What? Angie, who saw you? What do you mean?"

"They keep yelling at me to jump." Angie sobbed very quietly, hoping Nona would not hear it; he didn't want her to worry. "I'm lonely, Nona, and I'm scared."

Nona's eyes were wide, and she motioned for Tork and her mother to be quiet. "Angie, where are you?" she asked him in a firm but gentle voice. She nodded, and told him to stay exactly where he was, not to listen to the crowd. She promised she would be right there.

"Angie's on the roof at Dino's," she said. "Tork, we gotta get over there."

* * *

A/N: I was stuck with this one for quite some time, but I eventually resolved everything with this plot twist flashback. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Luv ya!


	21. God's Gift

A/N: I saw Speed racer last night, so I'm a little wired. Excellent remix of the theme song! Very funny, very brightly colored, and the Wachowski's films never dissappoint. Plus, Emile Hirsch is super cute.

**Soundtrack:** "God Gave Rock And Roll To You II" by KISS.

* * *

Angie sat on the hot metallic edge of the flat rooftop, watching the bloodthirsty pack ‎below as they circled the building, ju

Angie sat on the hot metallic edge of the flat rooftop, watching the bloodthirsty pack below as they circled the building, jumping and sneering, tossing insults. These were faces he saw every week, with hair in every Crayola shade, who he recognized from the club. These people—these Foundlings "fans"—were, of all things, encouraging the drummer to jump.

Angie did not understand other people. He did not understand why they were so cruel in these supposedly enlightened times. For the most part, Angie was a pathological people pleaser; he would do almost anything and everything in his power to make others happy, to get them to like him. But he would not jump; not because he had any particular attachment to life or fear of death, but because, if he jumped, he would land on the persons directly below him. They would break his fall and die in the process, and so, Angie, as kind and loving as he was, would not, could not, jump.

"Oh, boo-hoo, Little Drummer Boy," a spectator teased, his thrown beer bottle missing Angie by several feet. "Why don't you just plummet already, freak? No one would miss you anyway."

Angie ignored him for the time being, instead looking to the rear of the maddened crowd, where Mikki attempted to push his way through. He was followed closely by Surfer Mikki and a Mexican guy in a Teku jacket. The trio shoved to no avail, until St. Jimmy himself appeared and parted the spectators like the red sea.

"Pathetic loser!" another called, sneering. He turned to his friend. "You know, statistically, musical groups go through drummers like Kleenex."

The first speaker nodded in agreement. "His death will draw much needed publicity to the Foundlings. It's for the good of the band!"

"For the good of the band," someone, perhaps all of them, repeated, and that was all it took to snap the Saint back to reality.

Jimmy froze, unable to believe his ears. In that moment, the last few days were in absolute clarity. His selfish, blind idiocy and obsessive need for fame were swiftly becoming his downfall and leading one of his closest friends to an early grave.

"How could you say that?!" he bellowed. "What the Hell is wrong with you people?! Have a little common decency for fuck's sake!!"

"…But, statistically, musical groups—"

"Fuck statistics and fuck you!!" he screamed, and the roar of the crowd settled to a dull murmur of discontent. The quiet was broken only by the muffled yelps of a young man Mikki was knocking the stuffing out of after hearing him yell for Angie to jump.

Angie drifted inside of his own head, observing the stunned hush of the mob. There were some of Tork's friends across the street. The neighborhood being an indie art district, it did not really surprise Angie that they just so happened to be there. The Italian looking guy he shouted at Saturday when he was off his meds, and someone who looked like he might be related to him, were coming out of an art gallery to observe the distressing scene in confusion; the Japanese boy and the girl who hit Tork, along with Monkey's sister and girlfriend, peeked their heads out of the bridal boutique next door.

There was a great thunder of engines from Angie's left, and several cars parked haphazardly mere feet from the angry mob; a couple of muscle cars, an SUV, a Porsche with the bonnet from a hearse welded on, and an olive drab jeep with a few bullet holes near the bumper. Demitri, Anya, Monkey, Porkchop, and the big Japanese Metal Maniac whose name he could not recall must have been at Pietro's diner when news reached of his predicament. They must have been genuinely concerned for his safety if they had gotten Vlad to abandon the grill on a Tuesday so soon after the lunch rush.

Though Angie would have sworn he had not been there moments before, the tall blonde military man who claimed to be Mikki's and Surfer Mikki's father stepped out of a phone booth. Not more than a few rows behind him was an older looking Jewish man Angie had never seen before, but he noted that he and Nona had very similar crystal blue eyes.

And as if the mere act of thinking of Nona had caused her to appear, up roared her mother's pink Cadillac with ice white crushed velvet seats, Nona in the back and Tork riding shotgun. As soon as the car screeched to a halt, Nona leapt over the still closed door, slid across the hood, and muscled her way to the front.

"Angie, we're here for you," St. Jimmy declared, unaware of the bassist's imminent collision with him. "Don't listen to these ingrates, man. You're a brother to us, Angie; we love you."

"What about your fans?" he asked.

"When my eighteenth birthday rolled around, and my parents kicked me out because my being a career musician shamed them and brought dishonor to our family name, who was there for me? Not these ferocious morons, but you. You were there for me, Angie."

"You were there for all of us," Mikki hysterically called, his eyeliner smudged from the fight. "And now we're here for you."

"You won't cheat us of this!" someone yelled. "I came all the way down here to see that freak jump, and I want him to jump!"

Mel shuddered at the word "freak," leaning close to Wylde; she wanted to help the boy on the roof, but she was far too frightened of the crowd to make a move. She had been in a situation like this before, and was struck still with anxiety. Wylde put an arm around her, the pair standing there in front of the bridal boutique, but it did nothing to ease Mel's tension.

They were chanting now; an ever repeating chorus of "JUMP, JUMP, JUMP!" Angie covered his ears, shutting his eyes tight and howling like a wounded coyote. St. Jimmy yelled for them to stop, to leave Angie alone, but the throng ignored his begging. His fans had turned on him; he was overwhelmed, and could only spin suddenly around at the hand that gripped his shoulder, utterly unprepared for who awaited him.

"You," Nona rasped, drawing out the single syllable for a very long breath. "This is your fault!"

"My fault?!" he sputtered. "You're the one who maced me, you psycho—"

"If you could just keep it in your pants—"

"Stop it, STOP IT!! Can't you see you're tearing me apart?!"

Once more, the alley fell to a hush, all eyes upon the drummer. Angie was standing on the edge now, and there was a collective gasp. He sighed, running a shaky hand through his already ruffled hair.

"I love you both so much, you guys. Please don't make me choose…"

He blinked away tears, his eyes fever bright. "Whatever happened to us, man?" he asked despondently. He seemed to be addressing not his friends, but the entire horde. "Music is supposed to bring people together, not rip them limb from limb. We were such good friends when we first met; Nona was our choir songbird, and Jimmy's parents forced him to play Tchaikovsky on that stupid violin. The music teacher let me study percussion because it was relatively easy, and I just turned out to be really good.

"Nona introduced Jimmy to the blues," he said. "You guys were like soul mates. We were a family. But now you've let your own bitterness and petty squabbles destroy that family."

"Oh, Angie," Mikki said softly, nervously clutching his wrist.

"Angie!" Nona called out to him. "Angie, you don't understand—"

"No, YOU don't understand!!" he shouted. "Life has its ups and downs, but you traverse those hills and valleys and travel in packs like lonesome stray dogs to protect against the harsh winter wind! You were my pack, and those hills and valleys shaped you as you are! I know life can sometimes be tough, and I know life sometimes can be a drag, but people, we have been given a gift. The gift of the road we travel!"

The hush of the crowd eased to a dull roar, some nodding and murmuring their approval of what Angie was saying. He was crazy, but he actually made a lot of sense. They quieted down once more, listening to the drummer with growing interest.

**God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Put it in the soul of everyone**

**Do you know what you want? You don't know for sure  
You don't feel right, you cannot find a cure  
And you're getting less than what you're looking for**

**You don't have money or a fancy car  
And you're tired of wishing on a falling star  
You gotta put your faith in a loud guitar**

**God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Gave rock and roll to everyone  
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Put it in the soul of everyone**

"Now, listen," Angie commanded.  
**  
If you wanna be a singer, or play guitar  
Man, you gotta sweat or you won't get far  
'Cause its never too late to work nine-to-five**

**You can take a stand, or you can compromise  
You can work real hard or just fantasize  
But you don't start livin' till you realize - I gotta tell ya!**

Angie threw his arms up, and they followed suit, swaying back and forth. He had them eating out of the palm of his hand. The spectators—coming for the chance to witness a death, staying for the message—began to sing with Angie.

_**God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Gave rock and roll to everyone  
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Put it in the soul of everyone**_

The crowd swayed lightly back and forth, some onlookers waving their cigarette lighters in the air; the Metal maniacs were among them. Angie had them singing with him now, each voice ever so soft, but together, they were strong. The chorus of lullaby whispers echoed clear across town, flying on the wind to the main strip.

**God gave rock and roll to you **_**to **__everyone, he gave the song to be sung_**  
Gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to everyone**

**God gave rock and roll to you **_to everyone, he gave the song to be sung_**  
Gave rock and roll to you, saved rock and roll for everyone  
Saved rock and roll**

_**God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Gave rock and roll to everyone  
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you  
Put it in the soul**_

"I know life sometimes can get tough! And I know life sometimes can be a drag!" Angie reiterated, his eyes fever bright. He spoke with complete conviction. "But people, we have been given a gift, we have been given a road. And that road's name is... rock and roll! YEAH!"

The mass was pacified, but more than placated; they were delighted. The homicidal madness of the crowd melted away, each one of them touched by the drummer's beautiful soul. For someone who had been through so much to be that positive, that forgiving, gave them hope.

"And that means you!" he exclaimed loudly, indicating a random person below. He pointed to someone else. "And that means you!! And that means you people! How many people here like the sound of rock n' roll music? Well, I do! I do AAAUUUUGGH!!"

"ANGIE!!"

Mikki clutched at his own hair, and in the desperation of those moments, time slowed to a crawl. He could hear his blood pounding in his own ears as Angie stumbled from the ledge, plummeting several stories. There were astonished gasps for the third time that afternoon. Angie's form disappeared, blocked from view by the tallest spectators.

"No," Mikki murmured. Tears dropped delicately down his pale cheeks, edged in black. "He's gone."

"It's like surfing a sea of hands!" Angie cried joyously. The mass of spectators had been won over by the drummer's song, knowing in their heart of hearts that Angie meant every word, and so the passed him along, raised up by their collective arms. He laughed with glee, but turned suddenly somber, annoyed. "Okay, who just grabbed my butt? Not cool, dude. Not cool."

Mikki laughed at his own stupidity and waited while his best friend was delivered to him. Tork and Porkchop got hold of Angie at last, and set him gently on his feet, where he was promptly set upon by Jimmy and Nona, who hugged him profusely. They apologized, begging for forgiveness.

"I could never stay mad at you guys," he said, "as long as you're not still mad at each other."

Nona and St. Jimmy turned towards each other, both looking sad and mildly ashamed. They both began to speak at once; they snickered awkwardly,

"I'm sorry I nailed you with pepper spray, Jimmy," she said. "It was no way to deal with my anger."

"No, I'm sorry," St. Jimmy replied. "I should have been more respectful of your feelings."

"Group hug!" Angie said. The alley grew silent save for some nearby crickets, and everyone stared at him. Finally, they laughed, and ignored him. Angie shrugged, and danced his way to Mikki.

"Don't scare me like that," Miki said. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"In my defense, I never planned on falling." Angie stuck out his tongue to punctuate his statement, but he smiled at his Goth roommate. "And I didn't really think you'd be so worried, Mik-meister…"

"Of course I worried! Angie, you're my best friend."

"But I didn't think you'd be _that_ worried." Angie shook his head; the blonde just did not understand. "Mikki-mouse, your mascara's running."

Mikki swiped at his eyes and cheeks, attempting to scowl without success. "Yeah, well, just don't run away again. I thought I lost you…And stop hugging me!!"

"You are just a big old girl deep down inside, aren't you?"

"When was the last time you took a shower?!"

Vert shook his head and sighed, aggravated, and the Major whispered discreetly to him with more than a little concern.

"Are they gay…?"

"Ask him yourself."

Jack did, and much to Vert's amusement, Mikki punched him in the face. "That's for slapping me the other night, old man," he snarled. "C'mon, Angie; let's go home."

Even Dr. Tezla, from in front of the Art Gallery where Kurt and Wylde had been earlier, laughed at this misfortune of the Major's, but he was struck suddenly with a sad longing. For a moment, he thought he saw an old girlfriend in the multitude. It had been so many years since he had last come to Vegas, never returning after losing a chance at true love. He wondered where she could be now.

"Petey-boo," came a soft and sweet voice from behind him. Tezla thought he must have been dreaming, but there she was.

"Keesha," he said, not daring to believe. And after all these years, she was still just as beautiful. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was in town?"

"Tork's my nephew," she told him. "You didn't guess? It should have been easy; we have the same last name."

He looked at her pathetically. "I never stopped loving you," he said. "I never wanted to hurt you, Keesha. I always loved you, and I still do. I didn't want to lie."

"But you had no choice; I know." She smiled at him. "Tork told me about the drivers working for you, helping with your research. I know you were telling the truth."

She kissed him softly. He held her in his arms.

"And I think it's time I told you a truth of my own."

* * *

A/N: Great song. Not the end. Too lazy to use proper grammar.


	22. Do You? I Do

A/N: My schedule has been sooooo crazy, like you would not believe; this chapter, even without lyrics, was the longest one and it was so difficult to get this last chapter just so absolutely right. And beleive me, it had to be special. But you know what makes it the most special? The people who have read and reviewed after all this time: special thanks and my deepest sympathies go out to **Catherine Takamoto**, **calalily**,**Kara Tezla**, **Kawaii Yamato**, **Blackwolf**, **feenekks**, **The Ginger Muffins**, **Knight of Aura**, **Uchiha Avaru**, and most of all, **HaloFin17** and **notforgotten**, who stayed with me every step of the way and through the bitter end and are probably the only ones reading this. I love you guys all equally! Except for notforgotten and HaloFin17, who I love MORE.

Also, the second song I used was originally by Tammy Wynette, but there is a version done by a punk cover band that I thought would be more appropriate for the Foundlings' style.

**Soundtrack:** "Thunder Road" by Bruce Springsteen; "Stand By Your Man" by Me first and the Gimme Gimmes.

* * *

Monkey stared into the large mirror, straightening his tie

Monkey stared into the large mirror, straightening his tie. He took a deep breath and glared at his reflection in defiance. "I can do this," he said, standing tall, but he suddenly lost his resolve. "No I can't, no I can't, NO I CAN'T!!" he whined. Monkey bolted for the window of the large dressing room as a great fear overtook him.

"Oh, no you don't!" four voices said, and eight strong arms wrapped around Monkey, pulling him back.

"The walls are closing in! I can't breathe—"

"You're the one who asked her to marry you, Monkey-man!"

"I was wrong, Porkchop! Monkeys don't belong in cages! I have to be FREE!!"

Monkey struggled to fight off his fellow Metal Maniacs, begging and pleading for them to let him go. Finally, in a moment of sheer desperation, Monkey rolled onto his back, placed his feet squarely on Taro's and Wylde's chest, and sent them flying into the far wall. After that, liberating himself from Porkchop's and Tork's grasp was child's play. Monkey ran again for the window and actually made it halfway out before he saw something that made him give pause.

Directly across the alley from his dressing room window was Lani's dressing room window, and Karma and another girl were trying with some difficulty to keep the terrified bride from clawing her way out. Lani looked up through her veil, kicking the young women away, and stopped. The frightened lovers stared at each other, silent for a moment.

"Nervous?" Monkey asked simply.

"A little."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Mitch, I don't know if I can do this," she said, the dread showing plainly on her face. "Not in front of all these people. My family won't leave me alone; they're just so overbearing!"

"Your family? My mother can't even talk to me without crying."

"At least she's talking to you at all; it's like I've destroyed everything she's worked for since Mom found out you were a mutie!!"

Monkey gasped, lowering his head and climbing back into the room. He sulked and sat in the windowsill like a cat. Lani cringed from her side of the alley, unable to believe she had said something so hurtful to her fiancée. Monkey had shown her nothing but kindness since she first met him. She loved him—

That was it. She did love him. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, and as long as that was true, things would be all right.

"Hey," she said sweetly. "Hey, Mitch, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. My mother's just so uptight about it. She lost a close friend when Magneto's Brotherhood stormed Honolulu."

Monkey grumbled something indistinct as his fellow Maniacs stirred on the floor.

"But what she thinks doesn't matter to me!" she said. She looked at him, and he stared across the alley into her lovely emerald eyes. "I love you, Monkey-man."

Monkey smiled. "I love you, too."

A Hispanic girl grabbed Lani by her shoulders and dragged her back into her dressing room.

"She'll see you at the altar," Karma told the groom firmly. She slammed the window shut and locked it, closing the curtains.

"Yeah," Monkey murmured. "Yeah. She will." The Maniac mechanic leaptto his feet, holding up is his fists with renewed confidence. "I can do this! All right, guys, let's—Guys?"

Wylde moaned, holding his ribs, and Taro held his head in his hands.

"…Oops."

* * *

"What was that?" Karma scolded. "Lani, if you weren't ready, you should have just said no in the first place."

"No. It—it's all right, I'm fine now. I just had a little bit of a …well, I had a moment, but it's gone. I can do this."

"Are you sure?" Karma watched her with concern, standing in her pale blue bridesmaid dress. Three other girls she had never met before recently were wearing the same dress; two of them were clearly relatives, but there was also a young Hispanic woman who spoke with a Texan drawl. According to Lani, her name was Esmeralda Sanchez and she drove in the World Race for the Road Beast team. The pair of them kept in close contact and became very good friends, to the point where she was Lani's maid of honor.

In all honesty, Karma did not like Esmeralda very much. Though she would not admit it, even under pain of death, she was jealous. After all they had been through at the Acceledrome, Karma thought for sure that she would be the maid of honor, but she was only a regular bridesmaid.

"Oh, that jerk!!" Mel said, slamming the door behind her. She stomped towards the bride and hugged her, being careful not to mess up her hair. "I don't know why Mom even had to go and invite Johnny Storm. That guy is such a tool."

"What? Mel, what happened?"

"I told him I wasn't interested, but he wouldn't take his hands off of me!" she cried. Lani gasped, holding her. There was muttering from around the room. Johnny Storm was a well known member of the super hero community. He was called the Human Torch and belonged to the Fantastic Four, a group that was based in New York City.

"Are you okay? Did he—?"

"No, he didn't. Uncle Logan and Uncle Steve knocked a good one for pawing at me, though," Mel said. The two uncles she referred to were the Wolverine and Captain America, respectively, and had driven off the Human Torch before any serious damage could be done. "But now I've got hand-prints scorched onto my butt!!"

She turned around, whining, for the bridesmaids to see; Mel McClurg did indeed have the shapes of Johnny's hands lightly toasted into the fabric of her dress. Esmeralda quickly grabbed a black lace shawl and tied it around Mel's waist; it went better with the forest green of her dress anyway.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Karma repeated to Lani, completely ignoring the redhead. Esmeralda clapped Karma on the back.

"Of course she can!" she said. "It was just last minute cold feet. Everybody gets it. Now, c'mon, girls, we got a weddin' to get to!"

"I just need a few minutes," Lani told them. "Then we'll go. I promise."

* * *

Mel left the bride and her attendants behind, finally having composed herself. He uncles Logan and Steve were waiting to escort her to the hall.

"You in one piece, half pint?" Logan asked gruffly. Some nerve he had calling her half-pint when she was three inches taller than him, but he showed concern, in his own…ill-tempered way. Mel nodded, thanking them. There was a measure of awkward silence, but it was thankfully combated by the shuffling feet of defeated men. The Metal Maniacs shambled out of the groom's dressing room, Monkey at the end and looking ashamed of himself. The whole lot of them were looking tired and pitiable.

"What happened to you guys?"

"His cold feet," Wylde grumbled, indicating the shoe print on his chest before buttoning his jacket.

"I said I was sorry," Monkey said. Wylde gave him a good shove, but he bent, gasping and holding his ribs. "Wylde, are you okay?"

He grumbled, almost growled, and Mel noticed that he and Logan had practically the same haircut. "I'm fine. Let's just go."

* * *

Monkey stood at the altar that had been set up at the front of the banquet hall, his fellow Maniacs by his side and ready to take him down if he made a break for it. They had no need to anymore. Monkey was still afraid, and his escape attempt weighed heavy on his mind, but the split second the wedding march began to play, Lani passed through the doors at the back of the hall, bridesmaids in tow, and he knew he had made the right decision.

She looked so wonderful; how did girls know how to look so absolutely perfect? She was gorgeous. Lani was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with, and that no longer frightened him in the least. As Lani reached the altar, she and Monkey held hands, and he could hear his mother crying.

A few of Monkey's family members had, truthfully, been a little put off by the fact that Lani was not Catholic, but many more of _her_relatives were upset that Monkey was a mutant. But the two were resigned to each other, and there was nothing to be done to stop the wedding short of informing Victor Von Doom of the presence of certain guests, and no one was calling the tyrannical king of Latveria any time soon.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to join these two beautiful young people in wedded bliss, uh-huh-huh," the Elvis impersonator drawled in a fake southern accent. He went on with his speech, and Monkey and Lani took their vows in turn. No one openly objected to them being joined in holy matrimony, at least that they admitted aloud, and he grinned at them.

"Then by the power vested in me by the fabulous city of Las Vegas, Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he said, striking a pose. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

The two racers embraced, sharing a deep kiss, and the banquet hall rang out with thunderous applause and wild cheering. Jimmy Edogawa played the wedding march on his guitar. The marriage was now sealed, and the next generation of drivers on its way to being born. Life would renew itself in their child.

The guests were ushered swiftly from their seats, and the reception began. Dr. Tezla was introduced to Dr. Reed Richards, who, as it turned out, was a fan of his work. The two got almost immediately to work on theory and practice of interdimensional travel, scribbling away on cocktail napkins. This would have been a monumental mistake, had he brought Keeshaas his date, but they began fighting again after some time spent trying to reconcile, and she decided to stay home. Both still had high hopes for the relationship, but only time would tell how it would end.

Mel had wanted to introduce the Wylde brothers to her uncle, Captain Steve Rogers, but as it turned out, they had met before. Kurt and Markie had both been in Manhattan on the eleventh of September, 2001, separated in the confusion. Both had run into the Captain at different times, and he had offered them kind and inspiring words in a time of chaos and pain. All they ever wanted was to thank him, and they finally got their chance.

There was a general atmosphere of good humor, with an underlying tension. Still the two families would not intermingle more than necessary. That is, until the band struck up.

A string of harmonica notes, sweet and high, lamented through the banquet hall. It was the beginning of a song most of the guests recognized, especially friends of the groom. Most of Monkey's family was from New Jersey, and so was the artist who originally recorded the lilting melody.

**The screen door slams, and her dress sways  
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays  
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely  
Hey, that's me and I want you only  
Don't turn me home again  
I just cant face myself alone again  
Don't run back inside, darling you know just what I'm here for  
So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore  
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night  
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright  
Oh, and that's alright with me**

Shirako yawned, extending his outstretched palm behind him. Weddings always depressed him because, as a gay man, he knew he could never get married. It was all very beautiful, but it was also very painful for him. Suddenly, something light and fragrant hit Shirako's hand, and he closed his fist around out. He stared at the item in his hand in confusion.

"I caught the bouquet?" he asked himself softly. His confusion melted into pride and joy and he smiled. "Cool."

"Get him!!"

Shirako ran wide-eyed from the group of single females who descended upon him. They circled him like hungry sharks; intent on either stealing the bride's bouquet or making Shirako their own, but Kurt enfolded him in his loving arms and kissed him on the cheek. As imposing as he was, the girls dared not try to separate them.

"Sorry, ladies," Kurt said, causing Shirako to blush and snuggle against him. "He's taken."

**You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain  
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain  
Waste your summer praying in vain for a savior to rise from these streets  
Well now I'm no hero, that's understood  
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood  
With a chance to make it good somehow  
Hey what else can we do now?  
Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair  
Well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere  
We got one last chance to make it real  
To trade in these wings on some wheels  
Climb in back, Heaven's waiting on down the tracks**

Watching the scene unfold from Lani's side, Esmeralda could only blink several times from surprise. Finally, she spoke. "Banjee said he was driving for the other team," she said, "but I didn't think he meant it like that."

"Please, that no-good, loco Street Breed was so deep in the closet, he was finding Christmas presents."

"Hey, our leader may have been a fairy, but at least we drove with a little finesse. Not like you Road Beasts, thundering around like bulls in a china shop."

Both Lani and Esmeralda whirled around in surprise to see Dan Dresden, Alec Wood and Banjee Castillo grinning like high speed Cheshire cats and rushed to embrace them. After the hasty and joyous greetings, however, Lani smacked Banjee on his chest.

"Why didn't you call us? We thought you guys were dead in a ditch somewhere!"

"When we crashed in the realms, we were rescued by a government run team," Alec said. "They said we owed them our lives and forced us to drive for them, but they were evil. They wanted to use the Acceleron's technology to help them take over the world."

"No wonder the Silencerz were kicking our asses," Lani commented.

"Oh, so you've heard of them." Alec smiled even as Lani playfully elbowed him, but he thought he saw Vert in the crowd and excused himself to surprise the blonde.

**Oh-oh, come take my hand  
Riding out tonight to case the promised land  
Oh-oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road  
Lying out there like a killer in the sun  
Hey, I know it's late we can make it if we run  
Oh thunder road, sit tight, take hold, Thunder Road**

He observed him as he moved quietly through the wedding guests, who were now dancing to a Bruce Springsteen song. Alec noticed his hair had gotten longer, and that he was dressed more for a funeral. He was prepared for this, as Major Wheeler had briefed them that the rest of Tezla's drivers assumed he, Banjee and Dan had perished in the realms. Alec grinned and tapped the blonde on his shoulder, then hid behind him and tapped the other shoulder when he turned around. Finally, he grabbed Alec by the wrist and spun him around.

"Vert, man, you are a sight for sore eyes," Alec told him, smiling, but the blonde before him only scowled in annoyance.

"At least I would be, if I was Vert," he told him. "Oy, Josef Vladimir! One of your comrades thinks I'm you!"

"Cool it, Mikhail, I'm right here." Alec frowned and looked from boy to boy in confusion, and Vert gasped in excitement, grabbing him and dancing around in a little circle.

"Dude!" Vert said.

"Dudes!" Alec replied. "Hey, what's up, man? Where'd this guy come from?"

**Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk  
And my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk  
From your front porch to my front seat  
The door's open but the ride it ain't free  
And I know you're lonely for words that I ain't spoken  
But tonight well be free, all the promises'll be broken  
**

Vert introduced Alec and Mikki, and the twins explained what the had learned since meeting each other; the pair of them had been accidentally separated at birth, and the older twin, Gustav Yuri, was raised in an orphanage under a different name, while the infant whose name he took died and was buried. It was a pretty far-fetched tale, but genetic testing had proven that both Vert and Mikki were offspring of Major Jack Wheeler, and that neither was cloned. "He's my brother, Alec," Vert told him excitedly. "We're twins!!"

"That's great, Vert." After Alec quickly recounted how he, Banjee and Dan had been held by the silencerz, and then SHIELD, the reunited friends did some crazy handshake they had invented in junior high, and gave a quick hug.

"Alec, I am so glad you're not dead."

"Yeah, I know, me too!" he said, and they both laughed.

**There are ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away  
They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets  
They scream your name at night in the street  
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet  
And in the lonely cool before dawn  
You hear their engines roaring on  
But when you get to the porch they're gone on the wind  
So, baby, climb in  
Its a town full of losers, and I'm pulling out of here to win**

After a little while, Alec found himself tapping his feet, and he bobbed his head with a wide smile. "This music is hot. They're pretty good for a wedding band."

"The best," Mikki contended. "The Foundlings are a staple in the underground rock scene around here, but they'll be off to LA soon to record their first album on Slither Hither Records, and they leave on the Twisted Tour in April."

"Along with us, in the extreme sport division," Vert said, and his eyes widened. "Dude! Alec, you should totally come with us. Mikki, you still got Stan's card?"

* * *

Elsewhere, some of Lani's more open-minded family members were meeting their loved one's new husband. Monkey was nervous to say the least, but he smiled and nodded through it, even the ones who did not speak much English. Lani's father was the son of a Vietnamese woman and an American soldier who was later killed by the Viet Cong. His mother, Kim Tam, named him Chris Thuy Tam, and Kim, along with her brother Tran and his wife Ming, managed to make it out with her son at the fall of Saigon. The Tams came to Hawaii because the warm climate reminded them of home, without all the political turmoil.

Growing into a studious young man, Chris Thuy Tam became an engineering student at the University of Hawaii, where he met a beautiful girl named Lili Kapahalu. Lilitaught him to balance work with fun, which probably saved him from a nervous breakdown, and then taught him to surf. They fell in love, and not long after that, Lani was born.

Lani had explained this to Monkey beforehand, but what surprised him was that Chris did not actually seem to havea problem with him marrying his daughter. Lili was livid, but Chris shrugged it off.

"My wife does not like you because of what you are, but I understand what is like to be different," Chris told him, shaking his hand. Though he smiled as he spoke, his eyes had a hint of sadness in them. "What it is to be told you are not good enough because of the way you were born. My father was an American soldier, and in Vietnam, this was improper. We were called 'Buy Doi,' the dust of life. I was lucky to come here alive."

Monkey nodded, his smile wavering. He was unsure of what to say.

"You are different from us, Mitchell McClurg," he said. "This does not please most our family. But I can see in your eyes when you look at her how deeply you love my daughter. That is good enough for me."

"Thank you, sir," Monkey said. Maybe Lili would come around to his way of thinking.

"Please, call me Chris."

"Does that go for us, too?" Dennis asked with a grin. Monkey panicked as his mother wrapped her arms around him, still crying.

"My little boy is all grown up!!" she sobbed.

"Mom, you're embarrassing me!"

Dennis only laughed and introduced himself to Chris. "I know yer family ain't th' only ones upset about all this, but Lani's a wonderful girl, and we are honored and privileged to have her as one o' our own," Dennis told him. "I mean that truly and sincerely. Yeh should be very proud of yer lass."

"Thank you, Dennis," Chris said, shaking his hand. "I am very proud of her, and I love her very much. I only hope that she and Mitchell are happy together."

"A toast then, me bucko!" Dennis said clapping him on the back. Chris was winded for a moment, but he took it in stride. "To our children's future: May God surround them with his love and protect them today and every day, as they stand in holy unity!"

Chris grabbed a champagne glass off of a nearby waiter's tray. "To our children's future," he agreed. "Aloha!"

"Erin Go Bragh!"

The wedding guests—every team from Dune Ratz to Wave Rippers and everyone in between among them—cheered wildly as the Foundling finished a song.

"Thank you so much, you are a lovely audience," Nona said. She was wearing a little black dress and had her dreadlocks tied back with a large gold clip. Jimmy and Angie, as well, were dressed for the occasion, albeit a little half-assed; Jimmy had on a nice white shirt with brown slacks and a purple tie that matched his hair, but he was still wearing his bright purple Converse All Stars, and quite frankly, it was a miracle they talked Angie into even wearing a shirt at all. The drummer opted not for a tie, but instead for a studded dog collar.

"I just want to take the time to congratulate Lani and Mitch again," she said. "You guys are so cute together!"

She paused to allow for applause, and smiled. "I heard you guys hit a minor rough patch right before you decided to get married. I'm glad everything worked out. It was his fault, right?" There was laughter. "But you made it, and you walked down the aisle, and we're all so proud of you. If anything ever happens," she said in a soft, sultry voice, "you have to remember that things will work out. Because it can get tough out there, but if you can't get tough enough right back to save your love, if you can't put up with the bad times and the stupidity, if two crazy kids like you can't stick together, than there's just no hope for anyone else out there…"

Jimmy struck up a great speedy guitar riff that had made him so well loved down at Dino's, backed up by Angie's energetically thundering drums and Nona's bluesy bass.

**Sometimes it's hard to be a woman  
Giving all your love to just one man  
You'll have bad times, he'll have good times  
Doing things that you don't understand  
But if you love him, you'll forgive him  
Even though he's hard to understand  
And if you love him  
Then be proud of him  
Cause after all he's just a man**

_Stand by your man_

**Give him two arms to cling to  
And something warm to come to  
When the nights are cold and lonely**

_Stand by your man_

**And tell the world you love him  
Keep giving all the love you can  
Stand by your man**

Nona smiled, looking at Jimmy, but he just kept playing. Things were okay now, but she wasn't the kind of girl who gave up so easily. Likewise, was Vert, who watched her with the same spellbound look in his eye he'd had that first night. Nona and Verthad a little more contact, now that he was friends with Angie and Mikki, but she still ignored him for the most part. And still, even as he saw the way she looked so happy around St. Jimmy, Vert refused to abandon hope.

**Sometimes it's hard to be a Foundling  
Giving all your love to just one band  
But if you love us  
Please don't make fun of us  
'Cause after all we're just a band**

_Stand by your man_

**Give him two arms to cling to  
And something warm to come to  
When the nights are cold and lonely**

_Stand by your man_

**And tell the world you love him  
Keep giving all the love you can  
Stand by your man**

* * *

A/N: I told you it had to be special, didn't I? It's Lani's special day!! Oh, Fraggle, this took forever. No wonder you see so many of these "musicals" on this site just out and out abandoned by their creators!! But you know what I figured out? All this happy stuff is draining the joy right out of my brain. I think what I need to do is write a few sad stories to help get that out of my system before I do a sequel. I figure I might do a zombie story, maybe an Evil Dead crossover; I've got a tribute to September eleventh victims a quarter way done... Oh, and calalily, if you're reading this, I actually wrote one scene to the Mikki story I promised you. I just need to do the rest of it now!! Sooooo...that's FD's coming attractions. Lurve ya!


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